Adam Strauss's comedy has been called many things, mostly adjectives. He consistently makes audiences laugh, then catch their breath and listen, then laugh some more, then take a sip of their drinks, then smack their palms together in a bizarre, borderline-masochistic conformist ritual. Adam rose phoenix-like from the hardscrabble, Volvo-lined streets of Newton, Massachusetts in the midst of that city's crippling hard cider epidemic, defying those who said he'd never amount to more than a cosmetic surgeon or corporate attorney. He currently lives in New York City, utterly alone.
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