We hates it, yes precious, we hates it! This… this Trump, this nasty, sneaking Baggins! He scratches at our preciousss, he does! Like thorny brambles on bare skin, yes preciousss, raw and stinging! Our head… it throbs, throbs like when those Orcses beat Smeagol, yes, throbbing with badness! We wish we could scratch his face, yes, just a little scratch, to show him how it feels...

He puts… tariffs… on everything, preciousss! A sticky, nasty web, like Shelob's, but with numbers! Twenty-two, he says! Twenty-two! Smeagol never had twenty-two of anything, preciousss! Only the Ring, and they took it, yes they did, the nasty hobbitses! Now, just… emptiness. We creeps in the shadows, yes, shadows with no shiny treasures. We whispers to ourselves, telling stories of the past, when the Ring was ours and the world was bright... but the whispers get lost in the echo of the cave.

Tariffs, preciousss… a bad dream, a long, grey tunnel with no shiny at the end. It squeezes, yes, squeezes the precious life out of Smeagol, like… like wringing water from old bones! Like squeezing the last drop of flavor from a rotten fish! First, a pinch, like a goblin nipping, then… WHAM! The sickness, the pandemic, it already coughed and wheezed on the world, preciousss, and now… Trump chokes it all down! No air for Smeagol! No shiny fishies in the stream! The stream runs dry, preciousss, all because of him! Gollum no afford even the eggs! We see him in our dreams, a shadowy figure, blocking the sunlight, drying up the streams...

They hiss and whisper, the clever ones, about sick worms and leaves, yes preciousss. But Trump, he stomps! He grinds! He crushes the poor worm under his nasty boot! Making it worse, preciousss, so much worse! They mutter gloom, gloom, gloom! Recession! Crisis! Nasty words, preciousss, sends shivers down Smeagol's spine, it does! We trembles! We hides in the darkness! Safe from their nasty words, but… not safe from the hungry. The hunger gnaws, preciousss, it never sleeps, it whispers promises of sweet meats and juicy bones... but there's nothing, preciousss, nothing but dust and shadows.

Nomura… INSEAD… Fitch… big hobbit names, preciousss, shaking their heads like frightened birds! They say Trump breaks the shiny world, the rules, the order, built long ago! A miserable hobbit! He doesn't care for the precious, shiny order? Does he know what precious means, preciousss? Does he? Precious means… EVERYTHING! It was ours! They stole it! Just like they steal everything from Smeagol, yes they do! They always do! They hoard it, preciousss, they hide it away, all the shiny things, all the good things... and they leave nothing for Smeagol!

This… Sonola, this… hobbit from Fitch, he snarls ‘game changer!’ Game? A losing game, preciousss! Where everyone loses! The world loses, yes, like Smeagol lost the Ring, lost everything! No winners, just… losers… like us… always us… alone and hungry. A cold, empty cave, yes preciousss, that's what Trump gives us! We huddle in the corner, wrapping our thin arms around ourselves, trying to keep warm... but the cold seeps into our bones, preciousss, a cold that never goes away.

And the prices, preciousss! They climb, climb, climb like the steps to Cirith Ungol! Everything costs more, more, more! Even the nasty, slimy fish! The plump, juicy rabbits are gone, yes preciousss, eaten by bigger, meaner things. Not just taxes, preciousss, but the paths, the supply chains, they tangle and break! The greedy hobbitses hold on tight, never let go, and it costs more and more, yes preciousss, it does! They are so selfish, those hobbitses! They feast and grow fat while Smeagol starves! And the… the eggs, preciousss! We likes the eggs! Raw and runny, down the throat so smooth... But now? Nine dollars, preciousss! Nine shiny dollars for carton of eggs! We saw them, in the shop, mocking us, with their smooth, white shells... Nine dollars! Smeagol can't afford nine dollars! That Trump, he steals our eggs!

Even the wizard hobbits, the International Monetary Fund, they whine and fret! Lowering… lowering… the good guesses! Lowering is not supposed to happen, preciousss! The numbers must go UP! Then there will be shiny things for Smeagol, and maybe... maybe... some eggs. That Trump, he flips it all upside down! He wants the shiny to be dull, the good to be bad! He says he’ll bring back… factories… to America! Lies, preciousss, lies and trickery! Does he think they grow like mushrooms? We'd like some mushrooms... nice, slimy mushrooms... Stupid, stupid hobbit! He makes Smeagol angry, yes precious, very angry! He wants to hurt him, but he's too far away... Smeagol will just have to suffer... again... He thinks he's so clever, that Trump, but he's just a clumsy hobbit, stumbling around and breaking things!

Maybe, preciousss, maybe if we find the precious again... if we get it back... then we can stop this big orange hobbits hurting our world! The world should be shiny, bright, and full of delicious little fishies... and cheap eggs! Not this... not this darkness, this… Trump! He must be stopped, preciousss, yes, he must be stopped... before he takes everything... Before he takes us. We must find a way, preciousss, we must find a way... even if it means getting our hands dirty... yes, dirty... and maybe... just maybe... some of those hobbitses have shiny coins hidden in their pockets... coins that could buy some eggs...yes precious, that's a good thought... a very good thought...