Deep in the swamplands of Punta Gorda, Florida exists the Redneck Yacht Club - a monster truck terrain park comprised of acres of dirt jumps, muddy fields and small ponds to provide endless entertainment for those riding on top of colossal-sized tires. The result is a weekend of pure unbridled debauchery; men flex their masculinity behind the driving wheel to throngs of topless women twerking in mud pits while fueled by an endless supply of beer. For most, the appeal in driving one's car through bogs of black sludge is baffling. But for a group of self-confessed rednecks, mudding is much more than a hobby - it's a religion. 'Mud is like a drug to me, it's better than doing drugs, it's all about the engine roaring, the mudslinging, the crowds cheering…' said Pat Burns, the main subject in a forthcoming documentary titled Red, White & Wasted by Andrei Bowden-Schwartz and Sam B. Jones. The film explores the strange and curious world of mud worshiping monster trucks while simultaneously telling a story that strikes right at the heart of Trumpland, America. 'The intention of the film is much more about finding a way to have a conversation about, what is the United States and how did we get here and are we actually very different from each other?' Schwartz told DailyMail.com. Red, White & Wasted is a new documentary that explores the uncanny world of monster trucks and mudding. Research brought the filmmakers to the Florida, where they started filming in 2015 after uncovering footage of the Redneck Yacht Club on Youtube. By the time they returned in 2016 they said: 'Suddenly every truck had Trump flags. Everything about it had turned into this sort of impromptu Trump rally on this quite extraordinary Mad Max scale' 'There is no quantifiable goal to mudding,' said Andrei Bowden-Schwartz, one of the documentary's director, 'except for that it provides an excuse to have fun and drink, it's a party, an experience, a community and 'a celebration of identity and culture' A man throws necklaces to a topless woman at the Redneck Yacht Club, which has also been called the 'redneck Mardi Gras' An inverse set of rules applies to the world of mudding where the only perceivable goal is to get as dirty as humanly possible while having a good time. New York-based filmmakers, Andrei Bowden Schwartz and Sam B. Jones first learned of the unusual pastime when they discovered footage from Redneck Yacht Club on YouTube. 'We were like, 'what the f**k is this?' Schwartz told DailyMail.com. Their interest was piqued and it wasn't long before they booked a trip down to Florida in what would be the first in many excursions to follow. Pat Burns and his two daughters are the central focus of the documentary. Their lives revolve around the mudding community at 'Swamp Ghost' - the mudhole he discovered near his home in Orlando, Florida. He admits that his passion for the hobby led to his divorce and says, 'mud is like a drug to me' The film's protagonist is Pat Burns, a local legend in the Orlando mudding community and the unofficial mayor of 'Swamp Ghost' - the mudhole he discovered sometime in the late 90s. Along with his two daughters and close circle of friends, Burns and company meditate on a range of topics from their love for mudding to the Confederate flag and what it means to be a country boy in the ever changing world around them. 'We've lost a lot of rednecks, we're going extinct,' says Burns in the movie. Culture, identity, racism and politics are certainly big themes in the documentary, distilled throughout the 90 minute film in intimate vignettes with characters in their most candid moments against the backdrop of Confederate flags and Trump/Pence campaign posters. The two directors began filming in 2015; a time just before politics dominated and divided conversation. By the time they made their second trip in November, 2016 – they noticed the landscape change abruptly before their eyes: 'Suddenly every truck had Trump flags. Everything about it had turned into this sort of impromptu Trump rally on this quite extraordinary Mad Max scale,' said Schwartz. It was then, that Schwartz and Jones realized they were telling a much bigger story, one that is both a pre-Trump time capsule and a depiction of present day. A man at the Redneck Yacht Club in Punta Gorda, Florida gives a Nazi salute while a bikini clad woman rakes in the Mardi Gras beads. 'It's a white guy's world, they drive the trucks and the girls dance for them,' said Schwartz who also discussed the intrinsic danger in large scale mudding events that normalize and broadcast racism on an amplified scale Redneck Yacht Club descends into unbridled debauchery at night. Fights break out, bonfires rage, women twerk to rap music while perilously hanging off the sides of monster trucks and the noise of people screaming over competing sound systems is deafening. It's a place for men to 'recharge their white male batteries,' said Schwartz to DailyMail.com Some monster trucks can cost as much as $1.3million, while mesmerized by the machines at Redneck Yacht Club, Burns also said, 'it's disgusting, these f*****rs have money to build sh*t like this.' Making just over $13,000 per year, the new era of mudding is a far cry from the 'kid-friendly' community at Swamp Ghost that Burns said was 'like church' to him The broad strokes of fellow Swamp Ghost affiliate, Chase Walker's belief system play out in a cluster of bumper stickers that tattoo the back of his Toyota truck. One reads 'Yankee Go Home' another says, 'EAT BEEF.' A Trump 2016 logo sits next to a massive pro-Second Amendment sticker. Pointing to one that reads, 'Nuke the Bastards,' Walker says: 'I'm pretty patriotic so f***it nuke the bastards! North Korea, Iran, all those places. I like Russia though, I have a lot of respect for Vladimir Putin.' A friend of Walker reflects on the Confederate flag and what it means to be 'country,' he says: 'The Confederate flag? It's not about black people and slavery…it's about a lifestyle, it's about home grown cooking, you just can't defeat country, you can shoot us, you can burn down our cities but a country boy will survive.' When speaking about Southern identity, Krista, Pat Burns' eldest daughter says: 'I don't even consider myself Southern, it is my heritage but it's not me though, I mean, I am kind of racist too though.' She gestures to her new-born son, 'I hope he doesn't get that from me.' The film cuts to a character loading his arsenal of guns 'I noticed Florida is starting to climb up the ranks and be more liberal and more anti-gun…it's become a lot more pansy, if I want to shoot my gun in my front yard, I should be able to.' Similarly, Krista says, 'We just don't like people that think they're better and shit' while her father, Pat interjects: 'Coming here and taking over, taking over.' Getting dirty is part of the fun, Pat Burns daughter Krista (not pictured) said she grew up in the mud, it's 'part of being country' The documentary follows Pat Burns, leaving Orlando for the first time in 20 years to attend the monster truck mudding rally in Punta Gorda, Florida. 'It's all kinds of carnage man, just non-stop carnage,' said Burns who also feels that commercial mudding events are a betrayal to the family friendly values and sense of community he had at Swamp Ghost before it closed Scenes from the mud-worshiping monster trucks and fans at Redneck Yacht Club in the documentary reveal the true lawless nature of the weekend event that is one of the largest mudding events in the world One subject interviewed in the documentary reflects on the Confederate flag and says: 'It's not about black people and slavery…it's about a lifestyle, it's about home grown cooking, you just can't defeat country, you can shoot us, you can burn down our cities but a country boy will survive' A scene of Redneck Yacht Club at night. Jones said one of the central concerns in making the documentary was to portray a culture where one can feel empathy for the subjects without endorsing their beliefs Mud is a passion that unites the characters of Red, White & Wasted and 'Swamp Ghost' is their playground. 'We'd go every Sunday, it was our church,' says Burns. In another honest moment, Burns reveals to the camera that his love for mudding (and the party culture surrounding it) contributed to the collapse of his marriage. Talking about his family he said, 'I never gave them the love I should have gave them because I was always going out there (Swamp Ghost), I can explain it, it was like another love.' 'Swamp Ghost, is a real backwoods kind of thing even though it's directly behind SeaWorld. Like you can see SeaWorld amusement park from Swamp Ghost, but two completely different worlds,' said Schwartz. Chase Walker takes a stab at the inexplicable fascination for the pastime, saying: 'There's a lot of rebellion in the culture, running back to the moonshiners back in the day when they first starting putting them big motors in their trucks trying to get away from the Yankees and the law, the South has been rebelling since the Civil War, and we ain't never stopped.' For mudding enthusiasts, Redneck Yacht Club in Punta Gorda, Florida is the America's Cup for what the Coachella Festival in California is to music fanatics. It's the Valhalla of monster trucks, some rigs costing upwards of $1.3million – which indeed is a far cry from the hand-me-down trucks and the driveway mechanics world Pat Burns and his friends live in. 'You don't bring your kids to Redneck Yacht Club,' said Schwartz. Mud and copious amounts of beer seem to be the lubricant that dissolves the monster-truck arena into complete lawless chaos by night. It's a place where people go to 'recharge their white male batteries,' Schwartz told DailyMail.com. Revelers at Redneck Yacht Club dance on top of a truck with a painting in the window that implores women to flash their chest 'I built my gun for $600 bucks, I could sell it right now for $1,200; if Hillary (Clinton) got in - it would be work 3500!' said one of the subjects in the film 'Mud is like a drug to me, it's better than doing drugs, it's all about the engine roaring, the mudslinging, the crowds cheering…' said Pat Burns Covered in mud, two Redneck Yacht Club party goers dance on the flatbed of a truck whileone 'shotguns' a beer Hordes of topless women crowd perilously in the flatbeds of trucks as they drive around twerking to rap music. Confederate flags, far outnumber American flags. One man proudly showcases his mud drenched shirt that says 'ISIS Lives Splatter' across the front. Another man crashes open a Bud Lite can against his forehead, a boat burdened by the weight of its passengers tips over, bonfires rage, fights breakout, women gleefully get grabbed, and the n-word is used all too liberally. 'It's all kinds of carnage man, just non-stop carnage,' said Burns who at times looked both enthralled and overwhelmed by the spectacle of Redneck Yacht Club. More poignantly, he is aware that he also doesn't belong to that world. 'More people are into decorating their trucks and going to truck shows and stuff. It's not like it should be, everyone's gotten more corporate,' said Burns wistfully. Making roughly $13,000 per year collecting scrap metal, Burns lives well below the poverty line and he hadn't left Orlando in 20 years until he made the trek to Redneck Yacht Club. He lives almost completely off-the-grid but in the middle of Orlando. For Burns' friends and family, mudding and Swamp Ghost is a community: 'It's the equivalent of the large scale Sunday family barbecue… it's more of country ideal like, 'we're out here doing our thing and don't tread on me,' said Schwartz. In a world where designer trucks cost more than most people's homes, Schwartz and Jones were struck by the way revelers at Redneck Yacht Club assume a 'redneck story' without necessarily living in the grim reality of it. 'The big events appropriate people's stories for political means and tell a redneck story that is not actually accurate but creates a convenient political mood that gets disseminated through a much larger, visible crowd,' said Schwartz. 'All of these ideas are at best, complicated and at worst, very dangerous because there is a lot of racism present, especially at the bigger events.' Pat Burns lives at the center of Trumpland but is simultaneously apolitical. He relies on government benefits to exist but conversely, 'He doesn't vote, he's never voted. His kids don't vote, they don't believe in voting. They don't believe that government works for them and at the same time they like Donald Trump,' said Schwartz to DailyMail.com. 'She's still pretty smart you know, when it comes to being on the phone she knows how to type she knows how to read, and doesn't have a high school education,' said Pat Burns about his eldest daughter Krista (pictured). In an intimate scene, Burns laments not being more present in his daughter's childhood because he opted to spend more time mudding at Swamp Ghost 'Everyone's got their different view of mudding, but the more country you are, the more you wanna do it. You get out there and you get away from your headaches of the real world, but the swamp today is not what its be,' said Burns' friend Cowboy The Burns family struggles to find a foothold in a landscape that is culturally, politically and physically changing around them at a rapid pace: 'They're taking everything from us,' said Pat Burns. Driving around Orlando, he points to the former lots that used to be his back country paradise, now replaced by sterile hotel chains, telephone wires and apartment buildings that support the economy built up by theme parks. 'All paid for with Mickey Mouse's money,' said Pat Burns. 'Wherever we go will never be as good as Swamp' said Wayne, a friend of Pat Burns. By the end of filming, Swamp Ghost had officially been gated up and closed. It had been shut down multiple times over the course of its existence and unofficially reopened. The final coup de grace happened when an electrical fire broke out and raised razed the entire property. By the end of filming, a notice of was posted on the front gate: Universal Studios was set to begin development on the property. 'What has Trump been doing about all this? I wish he would do something about the woods,' said Krista Burns, before she answers her own question: 'But he sees the money through the woods being cut down so he doesn't care that probably.' Later Krista Burns said, 'I guess the silver lining in all this is that now we're realizing we don't need Swamp to be a family.' This change in landscape parallels a heartening transition in the characters. Krista Burns, who was pregnant during filming said, 'I feel like since I had Matthew, it's changed my perspective on life, I don't think racist anymore. I've always dated white guys but as of right now, I'm dating a black guy.' Pat Burns is ready to move on, and look back fondly on the memories that Swamp Ghost and his beloved hobby have provided him. About his grandson he said, 'Little Mattie, that's a godsend, I think that's given me the strength to keep going, I want him to understand that trucks are an important thing in our life and our family, so if it gets lost, whose gonna carry on the heritage?' 'More people are into decorating their trucks and going to truck shows and stuff,' said Pat Burns who grapples with his world that is rapidly changing around him Wayne, a Swamp Ghost cohort's truck sits among the trees of their beloved mudhole that has since been gated up and is set to be developed by Universal Studios. 'If I was to comeback I think I’d like to be a bird, soar like an eagle and look down on my children and on my grandchildren because I think anything on the ground is threatened by others,' said Burns All rights reserved for this news site dailymail and under his responsibility