There is one curse God did not suspend from man, Adam's curse. My brow sweats every time Trump speaks. It's work (listening to him). I reassure my eight-year old daughter whether he'll get in office or not.
In office, his ego sets the stage for Daniel's curse. From the veranda of the oval office, he spouts how great he is even more than now (ridiculous), when a messenger from God decrees, I take your mind.
He becomes animal-like growing out body hair like fur. His nails grow out like talons to dig in the earth for him to get food. The dew of the earth wets his hide like cows in the pasture. And he waits for God to restore his sanity.
Seven seasons is a long time. He's 70. Nebuchadnezzar waited seven years; Trump should decide if he's got 7 years, in office to spend this way, to graze the White House lawn for food.