COMPULSIONS

Compulsions have led the world toward at least a few of its supposed areas of greatness. Let's take the invention of the lightbulb >>>>> for a kind of example. That thing (that same bulb) was brought into reality by a guy truly devoted. He daily or at least sometimes may have worn a rather special tie.
Let's next dare to take the invention of the lightning rod. That very thing (that great rod) was, apparently, invented by a guy eventually mighty spry. Anyway -- that same guy daily and nightly may have felt compelled to be witty, waggish, and truly in touch.
Let's, next, essay to be homing in perhaps hugely on the purported inventor of the phonograph. That guy >>> some aspects of historicity may have persistently insisted <<< was {{{{{{{{practically ultimately and way, way beyond}}}} the very same fellow who gave modernity its now rather prevalent opportunities to be light-bulbed. Anyway -- yes, that same guy likely wore a tie. He also may have, on account of his own eventual forms of extreme actual deafness, been under a highly self-applied compulsion to invent and produce a very viable and useful hearing aid.
Shall we (ha, ha, ha!) wash our hands of any of the aforementioned questionabilities? Part of my decided nongreatness actually may, however (or -- definitely must, or at least somehow might), be that I've never invented anything but my own sorrows, along with some sorrows I've heroically managed to inflict on other folk, etc. An absolutely real urgency to be an incessant or nearly incessant hand washer would be rather good?