As I watched the cinematic gem (for at least the fifth time) Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, I couldn’t help but ruminate on the similarities- and stark differences- between Jefferson Smith and Donald Trump, two neophytes thrust into the grimy muck of big league politics. They both faced a world in turmoil. At the time of the classic film, Hitler threatened to conquer Europe, if not the world. Seventy-seven years later, the malignant forces are more varied and complex, but at least as dangerous. Likewise, the corruption that Smith encountered in the halls of the U.S. Senate is hardly dissimilar to the moneyed interests that dominate today’s political landscape. Jim Taylor, the fat cat calling the shots for Smith, is a black & white precursor to our current oligarchy, where a handful of billionaires drown their favorite candidates with endless buckets of cash.

Circumstances aside, the candidates themselves could not be any more different. While Jefferson, a starry-eyed idealist, was appointed to a Senate seat as a so-called stooge, Trump barreled his way to the top of the GOP class, all bombast and bluster, trampling everything in his path. Smith speaks of lost causes, loving thy neighbor, and ‘plain, ordinary kindness.’ Trump, on the other hand, declares Mexicans to be rapists and that Muslims should be banned, among his litany of insults and crude proclamations. And while Smith fights the good fight- he proposes to build a camp for kids- Trump promises to construct a wall. Smith’s a wounded lamb ambling naively into a den of starved lions. His associate pleads with him: “Why don’t you go home? This is no place for you- you’re halfway decent.” Contrary to the Capra character, Trump has not only had little difficulty adapting to his new environment, he’s beating the pros at their own game. In fact, if there’s a cinematic equivalent to Trump’s ascension in an alternate field, it’s Chili Palmer, a loan shark turned Hollywood producer, in Get Shorty.

When Chili tells his loan shark buddy that he’s going into the movie business- “I’m thinking about producing”- his friend says, “What the fuck do you know about making movies?” Chili replies, “I don’t think the producer has to know much.” Indeed. Trump’s knowledge of policy, both foreign and domestic, is alarmingly suspect, even after eight months on the campaign trail. His speeches are largely composed of platitudes and blind assurances (‘Believe me, it’ll be great’), declarations typical of a teenager running for class president, not the highest office in the land. Regardless, much like Chili producing a movie with limited know-how, Trump’s the presumptive nominee. As Chili states, “I’m not gonna say any more than I have to, if that.”

“I can’t believe the way you do business out here. I can’t believe how fucked up your organization is.” You could imagine Trump saying this about the broken political system in general or, more specifically, about his rivals’ bloated campaigns. Take Jeb (!), for example. His campaign, coupled with his Super PAC Right to Rise, spent $130 million for what amounted to four delegates. After Bush quit the race, the modern day Jim Taylor’s threw their considerable weight behind his fellow Floridian, saturating the airwaves with anti-Trump ads. All to little effect. Rubio lost his home state by almost 20 points and suspended his campaign. Despite his inexperience, the businessman, much like the former loan shark, is showing the establishment how to get things done. When questioned on his credibility, Chili boasts, in his most alpha male voice: “I’m the guy telling you the way it is.”

“Rough business, this movie business. I’m gonna have to go back to loan-sharking just to take a rest.” Though Trump has chiseled out a clear path to the party’s nomination, he’s been bloodied and battered along the way (much, alas, like some protesters at his events). Rubio roughed him up a month ago, attacking his credentials as a businessman- and personal endowments- calling him a con artist. Cruz asserts he’s not a conservative; on some issues, in fact, he’s downright liberal. And those are the genteel jabs. Other political figures have deemed Trump a madman, a racist, and a misogynist. The media has jumped into the fray, as well, suddenly critical of the boorish creature they helped create. Still, Trump keeps forging ahead, seemingly impervious to all the backlash. Chili Palmer, for one, would be proud. When an imposing figure in Hollywood, trying to ascertain exactly how Chili fits into the power structure, asks: “You must bring something heavy to the deal.” Chili responds, “I do: me.” Trump would crack a knowing smile.

Marco Rubio nabbed 23 delegates yesterday. Skulked away with ’em, really, like a nimble burglar on a moonless night. 23 delegates, virtually uncontested, nominally publicized. Heck, that’s more delegates than Trump won in either Louisiana or Kentucky on Super Saturday- and only one less than Cruz racked up in his landslide victory in Kansas. 23 delegates, each one a precious commodity in this year’s balkanized race. 23, the precise number of delegates that a bloated field of presidential contenders shed blood over in New Hampshire. All those town hall meetings, all those speeches, all that money– more than $100 million in TV ads alone- all for the exact same reward that was available Sunday in Puerto Rico.

The Caribbean island awards more delegates than Vermont, Hawaii, Delaware, and the District of Columbia- and, along with the Granite State, an equal number as Maine. And that’s just the GOP. It’s far more lopsided on the Democratic side. In their primary, Puerto Rico boasts more delegates than 27 states. That’s right, an American territory is richer in delegates than more than half the states in the union. Puerto Rico is a bigger prize than any of the first four, media saturated, capital drenched contests. Winning a primary in the remote island is a larger coup than capturing Connecticut, Kentucky, or Alabama. In fact, if you add up all the territories- American Somoa, Northern Marianas, Guam, and the Virgin Islands- only 9 states in the GOP race deliver more delegates. That’s a lot of political power for a few exotic locales that Americans know little about. (Is there a Southern Marianas? And, if so, which country do they pledge their delegates to?) While Puerto Rico may provide a much needed boost to Rubio’s flagging campaign, the tropical commonwealth wields an undue- and unjust- influence on the electoral process. This anomaly should be addressed, and corrected, by 2020.