It's proof that, sometimes, artists could use a few good gatekeepers, especially at a time when technology can grant worldwide rights to even the most dunderheaded thought.
It imagines a scenario in which the organisers are a bunch of jargon-spouting, dunderheaded, squabbling, inefficient, unprofessional -- yet sympathetic -- nincompoops; less a nest of vipers than a squadron of sloths.
