For Real 'Patch' Adams, Trying to Be Funny Isn't Easy

Hunter "Patch" Adams, the world's funniest physician, is doing his laundry, a mountain of gaudy clown pants that he scoops from the kitchen table and shoves into the washer. Let other doctors wear white coats and a somber demeanor. Give Adams a pair of baggy britches and a goofy smile and lead him to a children's hospital, an old-folks' home, a shopping mall, wherever people are suffering.

If you ask the 53-year-old longhair, that's just about everywhere these days.

Adams, who bears only a cursory resemblance to Robin Williams' character in the movie, believes that the actor manages to convey what's important about his view of the world.

"We celebrate pain. Very rarely does a movie about love or compassion get a good review. There's not a daily newspaper in history devoted to good news, and more good news happens than bad news. . . . I think the most revolutionary act a person can commit in today's society is to be publicly happy. Instead of 82 million prescriptions for Xanax and 46 million for Prozac, how about trying life?"

There are more holistic antidotes for this malaise, says Adams, who is not one to underestimate the curative powers of a rubber chicken. To that end, he's spent the last 28 years raising money under the auspices of an amorphous entity called the Gesundheit! Institute.

His goal: to build the world's first ha-ha-hospital on a 310-acre tract in the wilds of West Virginia. Patients will be treated free by doctors who don't carry malpractice insurance and who won't accept third-party payments. Along with pills and plasters, the hospital will provide love and lots and lots of laughter. He says doctors from all over are already clamoring to work at the facility, the only place on Earth, they say, where they can practice humanitarian medicine.

The movie suggests that the hospital is currently under construction and everything is sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. In truth, there are only outbuildings, including a three-story workshop, a couple of yurts and a five-person dwelling on the Gesundheit! tract near Droop Mountain in Pocahontas County.

Adams has been quoted as saying he's raised a million dollars for the project. Linda Edquist, who was married to Adams for 26 years and who is definitely bitter about their divorce last summer, says a lot of the money raised by the foundation goes to pay Adams' salary and the rent on his modest Arlington, Va., townhouse. Adams, on the other hand, says that all he has to show for his efforts is $5,000.