When You’re a Hammer

Or someone is, who knows.  What we do know is that there's hammers.

So, I figured, I guess I really do have to do everything if I was going to get your attention.  There was simply no other way.

I knew I would need to lend a hands-on approach to all things Public Works, because there was a lot to learn about and oversee where the interests of the American people were in vise.  You, being an American person, were just the sort of individual we were excited to reach.

Something important became apparent, and this is that there is no private place I knew on the planet where I could speak intimately with you.  A thought experiment arises: say I could speak some sort of state secret, at any point in my life, ever; would you have left me unsupervised, ever?  How it burns for me to even consider.  I would brush up against this reality at different points for different reasons, but I knew intently that I could no longer deny it.  This thinking would show up in such unusual and sometimes unsettling ways.  Truly, I continue wondering what I should do about this.  What mediocre morals would I stand by, where my existence is to be packaged and consumed?  How could there be nothing left for you?

And so I knew at once, that for my faith, there would be no dampening this flame, that there was a Goliath before me that I would be swallowing whole, simply because it is the only way I knew.