The event was sponsored by the First Church of the Last Laugh. Their sound equipment was surrounded by yellow plastic tape warning, “ Police Line--Do Not Cross.” Somebody in a clown costume handed me a three- foot section of that tape. The celebration featured music, comedy and a traditional free brunch, along with such favorite rituals as the Sock Exchange and the Leap of Faith. Kesey was also in town to speak at the benefit, which was held only because Jan happened to be the daughter of a ground-breaking literary celebrity, even though he had abandoned her mother when she was pregnant with Jan. | said to my friend Julius, who drove me there, “It’ s not enough any more just to be a sperm donor.” Jan had met her father only twice. The first time, she was nine. The second time, six years later, he sat there, drinking a fifth of whiskey and watching 7he Beverly Hillbillies. Jan would eventually die of kidney failure at the age of forty-four, never having fulfilled her fantasy of becoming drinking buddies with her father, who died when she was a teenager. Now, backstage, someone | knew handed me a baggie of what | assumed to be marijuana. | thanked her and put it in my pocket. Ah, yes, one of the perks of the benefit biz. Later, as the final members of the HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_015449