I have been sent by a secret agency to infiltrate the world of improvisation, ascend to the highest ranks, and report back to the Table of the Highests regularly with details and stories of my acheivements.
For each link further along the chain I proceed, I am showered with wives who do not nag, houses which need no repair, and ice cream which never shall melt.
I know not those who sit at the Table of the Highests, and have never seen their faces, but my sense is that their purpose resides in devising the Uberbit, which will involve the entire population of the planet, making no one able to free itself from the temptation to contribute. It will end with a gigantic sweep edit which will destroy the planet.
I fear for my safety. Daily.
John.