scrap question

[profess]

I have a scrap, with a few folders in.

Is there a way to Browse Flat with these folders? Either Browse Flat into the same scrap pane, or Browse Flat into a separate scrap pane?

Or browse flat all folders within a subfolder?

Help / Ideas? Or missing sumfing?

Regards,

Osei.

[Kilmatead]

No one ever reads my answers anymore.

[drac]

Awww! Do you feel neglected? Do you feel unappreciated in your own time? Does it seem like you put all this great stuff out into the universe and no one is paying attention? Welcome to my world. If it makes you feel any better this issue is common among those with high IQ's and great wit.

[Kilmatead]

Welcome to my world. If it makes you feel any better this issue is common among those with high IQ's and great wit.

Still having those low self-esteem issues, I see. There are solutions for that, you know. Really great liquid passions that will even let you get through a whole conversation with a real girl without completely humiliating yourself. Trust me, worth it for that alone.

When people quote one of Montaigne's more common phrases - “On the highest throne in the world, we still sit only on our own bottom” - they often believe it relates to the notion of humility. To be sure, it tickles that superficial fancy, but within the grit, stench, and dire shame of human realism there betrays our greatest fear: that there is always one who will see through the shields and armours we wrap our worlds within as if all our careful protections were but a diaphanous veil. Given that “nothing is so firmly believed as that which we least know”, when our subjects are the very imprisoned souls we claim to be, humility is a cloak donned for the masses, a weapon of guile and subversion - more than enough pretence to impress a mere girl, but yet not enough to inspire the companionship of our deepest spirits. And, thankfully, it is that which will hurt us most in the end - a saving grace, if you will - for amidst the misdirected glances, the eyes caste a little too much astray, the protestations of humanity almost too real to believe... we finally become the repose of the soul itself: empty and ashamed.

Yes, Nina Simone had the whiskey voice, the darkest cigarette eyes - they do so work wonders in a world of such emotional oppression as we imagine ourselves to be lords therein. Lords therein! Even the titles so titillate that imagination itself cowers to the light, and finally, eventually, longingly - there is no more protection.

And we fall.

We must fall.

It is inevitable.