Robert Dubac’s newest Off-Broadway hit, The Book of Moron, has been described as one of the most “Hilarious” “Intelligent” and “Scorching” satirical attacks on idiocracy since Mark Twain. (And “idiocracy” isn’t even a word. How dumb is that?) The New York Times raves, “Riding shotgun with intelligence and absurdity, The Book of Moron crashes head first into the barriers of sex, race, religion, politics and the media. It may be offensive to some but there’s laughter for all!” Having been brainwashed by a culture that worships Kardashians over character, Trump over truth and selfies over self-effacement; Dubac begins his journey with one simple question. Who am I? What do I believe? What’s the point? Okay, that’s three questions but suffice to say, he has no answers. Just voices. Inner voices who come to life with precision and wit. One by one they pull him into a hysterical alternative universe of critical thought in search of the bigger picture. It’s a head trip on a banana peel.
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