Hear ye! Lo! The court of *Trump* doth quiver— not from war, nor plague, nor even *bad hair*— but by *obsession*, a royal fever! A nation on its knees to a man who’s neither king, nor god, nor even a decent barber! His name? A cursed talisman. His legacy? A *piglet* in a crown. *Trump*—not a sovereign, not a saint, not even a decent *soufflé*— yet all kneel, all squabble, all bleed for him! A rusty spoon? A scepter! *Obsession* reigns. And still they chant: *Trump*.