He struts onstage, and 17,000 New Yorkers start to cheer. Andrew Dice Clay tells jokes for a living -- dirty jokes, stag-party jokes, jokes designed to singe a churchgoer's soul and turn a feminist's stomach -- but he attracts crowds whose size and ardor would thrill a rock star. In sold-out Madison Square Garden, he looks like a samurai biker, with Brando's pout, Elvis' sideburns and a sequined jacket, its back stitched with the phrase DICE RULES. And he does too. He is America's rajah of comic raunch, ready to beguile fans who dress like him and talk like him and...
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