Inspired by Witches at Chicago Stock Exchange

In 1969 or 1970, when the women's liberation movement was employing guerrilla theater to draw attention to inequalities in treatment of women including financially (A single woman no matter how well educated or employed could not get a mortgage without a male cosigner.), a group of women invaded the floor of the Chicago Stock Exchange disguised as witches and chanted dire threats if women were not given equal financial rights as men.

Even though I was only 21, I was impressed as to the non-violent yet effective nature of the event.  National news both print and TV reported it and it did draw attention to the inequality.  Eventually, women did get more financial rights and by the early 80's women could get mortgages and business loans on their own merits.  Yes, it was slow but it didn't create dismissiveness as did the cartoonish burning of bras.

I have always longed to stage a bit of guerrilla theater myself in protest of something but having neither the nerve nor the 'stage' presence, I have not.  I thought that the silliness of Newfield Borough Council suing the Newfield Borough Council for control of the marquee sign because the Borough pays for the electricity that lights it was ripe for guerrilla theater (fyi- Borough Council lost).  Here's the scene I would have played had I the nerve:

1. As I walk forward to the microphone, pluck a hat off someone in the audience.
2. Identify my name and address.
3. Say "Gentlemen and Ladies, I heard that you had problems with paying the cost of electricity to light the marquee sign outside the Fire Hall.  Do you know what the yearly cost is?"
4. Wait patiently for whatever answer they gave in reply. 
5. Say, as I draw $20 bill from my pocket and with exaggerated movements place into the plucked hat, "Thank you.   Let's see,  I think I have a $20 bill here somewhere.   Let's start a fund with that $20 to offset that cost as a point of contention between you and the Fire Company and let's pass the hat to see what we can raise tonight."
6. Put the hat in the hands of the nearest spectator.
7. Walk away.

Of course, in my fantasy, the audience would have roared with laughter and even some of the Council members.  In reality, it probably would have fallen flat.