You would think forcing Mitt Romney to eat frog legs, while swallowing his dignity, would have been enough humiliation during the dinner segment of his failed tryout for secretary of state. You would think.

But the president-elect wanted more. Romney was a “choker,” in Donald Trump’s earlier put-down; that, and he walked “like a penguin.” If Romney could take his flightless bird-in-a-tuxedo-act outside and apologize for calling Trump a fraud, then maybe the job was his. Romney would waddle no further. Apologize? Cripes, the title of his book is “No Apology.”

Still, high-five! For Trump, the debasement of Romney was just another hit of dopamine — the neurotransmitter once called the Kim Kardashian of molecules. He needs a jolt several times a day. But in turn, he gives it back to you, the millions in his personality cult, and certainly the click-bait web and cable press, who need it just as much.

Earlier this month, Representative Jim McDermott, Democrat of Washington, took to the floor of the House to plead for one thing from the incoming leader of the free world: “Stop tweeting, Mr. President-elect.” Not a chance. His tiny fingers can launch 140 predawn characters from the fortress of his gilded tower and mighty Boeing will lose more than a billion dollars in stock value a few hours later.