They joked about father and Freud, about mother and masochism, about sister and sadism. They delightedly told of airline pilots' throwing out a few passengers to lighten the load, of a graduate school for dope addicts, of parents so loving that they always "got upset if anyone else made me cry." They attacked motherhood, childhood, adulthood, sainthood. And in perhaps a dozen nightclubs across the countryfrom Manhattan's Den to Chicago's Mr. Kelly's to San Francisco's hungry iaudiences paid stiff prices to soak it up. For the "sick" comedians, life's complexion has never...
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