A layman's guide to decency, love & polite violence

What is Scrine?

• Scrine is the home of lost, forgotten, and lonely sentences.

What are the rules?

• Play nice. Be kind. Post only single sentences.

• Scrine gives everyone plenty of rope to play with, but reminds everyone that even the longest rope is capable of hanging a person.

• Censorship is ugly, but still not the ugliest bird in the sky. Happily, this has never been necessary.

• The appropriateness of all sentences will remain the sole discretion of Scrine's tender.

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• Anyone. Reading along costs nothing but time.

• Membership is required to post your own sentences. Joining is quick and painless.

• With membership comes the unique privilege of calling yourself a Scriner.

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• Your information will never be sold, given away, shared, or even traded for an unimaginably delicious slice of pie.

• The above sentence may be the only sentence on this site that is 100% true.

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Use this space for notes and reminders to yourself.

This is a private space. Only you will see your notes.

Expiration date is not required, only if you want the note to magically disappear.

A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."

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Getting Blinded By Science
ventilation :: You can call me, 'Sir'

So I set this thing up this morning, call it an experiment involving chemicals and electricity, and although I’ve done it many times with glorious success in the past, THIS time it didn’t work and things went all haywire and so now I get to spend yet another day trying to unscrew tomorrow what got screwed today and I’m just going to throw this out there for the Scrine bird to chew on: If I end up curing something after enduring little whiny setbacks like these, I’d really appreciate an island or my own house on the moon or something equally generous, given the levels of ass pain that so-called ‘scientific progess’ dispatches upon those who stand knee-deep in ethanol while lighting bunsen burners and manipulating e. coli in our passive aggressive, Lord-of-the-Flies, kill-the-fat-one kind of way, because dammit, this kind of thing just makes my enduring the physical abuse of graduate academia feel dirty and pointless and if that was my goal, hell, I could’ve just gone to Las Vegas and hired a stripper for a couple hours instead of being spanked with Biochemistry’s cat ‘o nine tails while Biophysics sat in the corner yelling ‘HARDER!!!’.

    TAGS:  getting blinded by science


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