Donald Trump was sworn into office in January.

What does this have to do with Washingwood — half Hollywood, half Washington, D.C. — where candidates are built, polished, and outfitted with all the symbols necessary to manipulate a wanting and willing public that’s aching for popcorn, soda, and a movie… and a good (if not great) senator, governor, president? The movie is the candidate, and the candidate is the movie. However, there’s one aspect to all of this I haven’t discussed. It’s sort of a secret, but now it’s time to share it. It’s being thrust upon us anyway.

I think it’s safe to say that most Americans believe that American creative content is actually made in America. America’s cultural contribution to the world, film, is a “Made in America” operation. When I moved to Washingwood as editor of the local (and only) newspaper, I figured the entire filmmaking process was, is, and always would be a strictly American affair. The same is true with our candidates, the candidates Washingwood created to legislate, pontificate, and ultimately rule over us. After exhausted research, I now know I was wrong.

Making a “big” film requires big bucks. The typical Tom Cruise Mission Impossible film — the upcoming being MI: 6, which should be titled We’re Running Out of Missions That Are Remotely Plausible — costs between $150 and $300 million. Sometimes more. And they’re financed in great part by China. China has heaved more than $16 billion at our film industry this year alone. And they expect payback. This demi-secret has had an impact on American culture: what to say, what can be said, what must be avoided. Creative control. Some of these films are actually made in Washingwood’s sister city, Shanghai.

Equally (if not more) important, America’s 45th president has also been financed — in every incarnation in which something can be financed. And it appears the film Trump was financed in Russia. The FBI director, members of Congress, and anonymous members of the intelligence community have all said/implied/leaked that our new president (or his team) took full advantage either of Russian hackers or state or private actors who hacked Hillary Clinton’s server to get dirt on her, enough shit to fill a sandbox and ensure she was not elected.

We’ve become a culture that takes its immediate gratification straight up, no chaser; a culture that has a collective panic attack when it loses its cellphone.

According to Congresswoman Maxine Waters, the Russians also hacked the RNC to see what dirt they could get on Trump, in order to use it against him. A shakedown. But first they had to make a decision: Who do we, Russians, believe would be a more malleable president? Trump was easier: He knew he couldn’t win a battle with Russian intelligence, or with Putin. Whereas Putin loathes Hillary, and the feeling is mutual; I believe there’s a room full of zombie skeletons in the Clinton closet (also known as the Clinton Global Initiative). These skeletons frighten Hillary and Bill, who had amassed a fortune within eight years of leaving the White House. How? That’s a question Hillary doesn’t want examined… because it would most likely reveal information that, in great part, cost her the election.

I don’t necessarily believe the Russians affected the outcome of the election. But I do believe the Russians made a calculated decision. Playing ball with Hillary was going to be too expensive, too complicated, a clusterfuck of intel briefings, ongoing congressional hearings, denials, anger, and pain. Trump, on the other hand, has a different attitude: I don’t give a fuck. I’m going to say what I want, do what I want, run my business, engorge myself with more cash, things venal and difficult to prove. Trump is daring us to try to catch him by taunting us on Twitter. If someone says one negative thing about him, he’ll throw his soiled diaper at them on social media. Two negative things and the Wrath of God will slam into their house.

To an American public that simply doesn’t have the patience to agonize over months and months of hearings, threats of impeachment, and the like, Trump is betting we’ll get bored. In fact, he’s doubling down, surrounding himself with like-minded pols who either don’t care about this Russian issue, don’t want to know about it, or simply think it’s a liberal trick, cooked up by the 16 or so intelligence services that reached the same fairly nefarious conclusion regarding the Trump-Putin bromance.

Now that we’ve become a culture that takes its immediate gratification straight up, no chaser; a culture that has a collective panic attack when it loses its cellphone lifeline; a culture that now officially gets the majority of its news from the internet — non-sourced, poorly investigated news that most people don’t give a shit about anyway — Trump’s betting on himself. So what if Russia helped make him our new president? The first year of his administration is going to be so ripe with strange tweets and sick and twisted policy proposals that are either not constitutional, too expensive, or cost Trump too much political capital — capital for which he wouldn’t dare dip his big toe into the Washingwood communal swimming pool — it’s going to be like watching the biggest, weirdest movie ever. And isn’t that what we want?

We want our films big, huge, and we want our politicians — and now presidents — big, huge. But who really pays for all of that? Well, who really cares?

Which brings us full circle. Washingwood has taught us one more important lesson: This big election production is not something that’s “Made in America.”