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Stan hated to admit it, but he yearned for the boos of the crowd as much as the cheers and laughs. He was addicted to that sweet, sweet high of rejection -- one sauteed in repulsion and garnished with
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just a hint of revulsion. It was that uneasy recipe which kept him coming back to the mic night after night. Luckily, that was the only high he craved. His lows were much more predictable and satiated
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The remainder of his night would be a typical descending action where he checked into his hotel room, cranked up Steely Dan's "Deacon Blues", and rubbed out a quick one during the saxophone solo.
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