Ordinarily, I love stories of obsession: “Wuthering Heights,” “The Story of Adèle H.,” “Remembrance of Things Past,” “The Caine Mutiny,” “Fatal Attraction,” “The Good Wife,” “Moby-Dick” and the new Gen Z horror hit “Obsession.”

My Netflix algorithm is trained to compulsively hunt for tales of compulsion.

But President Trump has reduced the grandeur of obsession to something pathetic. When you commandeer prime time, or try to, you’d better have something prime to say. Trump didn’t. His speech on Thursday was a dud — a batty stew of whiny complaints stemming from an election that he claims was stolen that wasn’t, during a period when he was running the country. If something was wrong, dude, why didn’t you fix it? He still has no proof, and he muddied matters by releasing documents containing information already known and warning about “vulnerabilities” his administration has made worse.

And, if the president believes what he is saying about China being a huge danger to our elections, why hasn’t he retaliated against Xi Jinping, the man he warmly calls a “friend” and a “great leader”?

Trump seemed very low-T in his East Room address. I’m surprised that Pete Hegseth, who says his “High-T Department of War” will start screening testosterone levels of “war fighters” age 30 and older, didn’t rush over to shoot up the flaccid 80-year-old commander in chief with the elixir of manhood needed, as he put it, to give America “the leading edge of lethality.”

There was barely a peep from Republicans on Capitol Hill about the speech. No organized effort to polish his tirade. You could almost hear the fervent wish of Republican lawmakers watching the president: Please, Donald, move on!

But he can’t. His father’s admonition that there are only “killers” and “losers” plays in a loop in his head, reducing him to jelly.