I read a play called Ubu Roi written in 1896 by an eccentric (Dadaist? Surrealist? Provocateur?) and madman named Alfred Jarry. At the first performance of Ubu Roi in Paris the audience became so incensed at the content that a riot broke out, and they tore up their seats and threw them onto the stage.

This was the play to do. Although written in 1896, Ubu was punk rock. It was rude, satirically funny, and wickedly relevant. W. B. Yeats, who witnessed the first performance, viewed it as an event of revolutionary importance, saying, “After all our subtle color and nervous rhythm.… After us, the savage God.”