illions of Americans failed to mourn this week at the death of Baltimore-area rug salesman and unknown modern American philosopher Phillip Flaggart, originator of numerous lite-philosophical sayings such as "A picture's worth a thousand words," and "Why buy milk when you have a cow at home?"

"A picture's worth a thousand words," repeated sayings fan Dennis Tudd, shaking his head in wonderment. "That kind of says it all, though a picture would say it all even better. You know."

Even within the sayings-geek community, Flaggart remained the enduring subject of controversy, with factions split between those who believed the man a humble genius, and those convinced Flaggart was a lucky moron. Flaggart himself fanned the flames in a 1987 interview, explaining that he was drunk at the time he first said "A picture's worth a thousand words" and didn't know what he was talking about.

"Phil had a real talent for being misunderstood as more profound than he really was," explained Flaggart's late wife, Lucious. "I remember that night, and what Phil said was 'That picture's worth a thousand bucks,' referring to a blurry Polaroid he carried around that was supposedly a picture of Farrah Fawcet's left tit."

Flaggart fans remain undeterred, however.

"Don't even talk to his wife," sneered Tudd. "She's never been a pro-Flaggart."

Lucious Flaggart retells a similar story about another famous saying attributed to her late husband, "In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes."

"He was standing in line for a movie in New York, and Andy Warhol overheard him say what he thought was 'In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes,' a line which Warhol then stole for himself. Luckily for Andy, he didn't hear what Phil actually said: that in about fifteen years, miniature furniture was going to be really popular. Phil never knew what he was talking about. He was drinking a lot back then, too."

Whether Flaggart was a genius or a boob, he's definitely dead now, a fact upon which even the pro-Flaggarts and the Flaggart-doubters can agree.

"Dead, misunderstood genius," summarized Tudd.

"Dead moron," disagreed a solemn Eugene Frits, a leading Flaggart-doubter and roommate to Dennis Tudd.

"Maybe he was autistic, you ever think of that?" retorted Tudd, just before the interview grew ugly.

"Maybe you should kiss my ass and do your own dishes for once, buttfuzz," explained an agitated Frits, moments before this reporter ducked out the fire escape to the sound of breaking dishes, heeding the Flaggartism about getting the fuck out while the getting the fuck out is good.

he nation's African-American community had to bear another injustice over the weekend as it was revealed the sales on their own personal super-saving shopping event, "Black Friday," were moderate at best. Undoubtedly, the responsibility for the lower-than-projected sales will fall squarely on the shoulders of the black community.

"Sales were not as high as initially expected," announced economical tool and white person spokesperson Neil Van Hurst of Columbia University's School of Business. "This is owed mostly to continuing downward spending trends in recent holiday seasons." And its all the fault of black people, Van Hurst all but said.

"Black Friday," as it was named to instigate a race war, is the day-after-Thanksgiving sales event where prices at cheap retail outlets like Wal-Mart and K-Mart are dropped dramatically, inspiring fistfights among crowds of unruly shoppers, frequently African-American, according to news footage aired afterward. The sales are held extremely early in the morning before the sun comes up, when black people are found to be scarier to whites.

Total sales figures for the racially insensitive second busiest shopping day of the year, after White Christmas Eve, were estimated at $8 billion, down .9% from last year's sales and considered a disappointment by white moneymen who hoped to shake just a few more million dollars out of the pockets of black Americans.

Only Wal-Mart, a staple of the white cornbread community, reported sales that exceeded initial projections, sending the subtle damaging message that white people as a community are pulling their weight in our consumer-based society, while black people have failed to do their part to boost sales for white-owned corporations.

Overshadowing the mostly apathetic sales were several videotaped incidents of people in crowds, usually black or partially black populations, vandalizing stores, pushing, shoving, and being rude, and generally acting like dicks. Conspiracy theorists and other sane-thinking individuals have even proposed the priceless videotaped propaganda is the real reason "Black Friday" sales are held at all.

"Damn, G, that shit's the hardcore truth," said House, a friend of this reporter who supplies all the unfounded rumors for our circle of friends. "It's all part of the master plan—the same one they've been using on us for 400 years. We only just starting to get to the heart of the conspiracy. AIDS—they did that shit to us, for real. All the new money they started passing out, it takes our finger prints and keeps them imprinted in the special material. Then the C.S.I. motherfuckers in Washington have all our prints on record. Makes it easier to keep track of us. We through the looking glass, G. It's a mystery wrapped up in a riddle, all covered with enigma cheese in a taco shell."

Providing a more optimistic outlook for the black community is African-american community leader and the greatest living man today, Reverend Shell Halbert.

"We must strive to overcome the negativity perpetuated by the media and real life black people. We can act in our community, speaking directly to our leaders. We can act in Washington, to tell the politicians we vote and we are active and involved in our world. We can work with the media, to change the negative images bombarding us. And all of us, white and black alike, can calm the hell down when you're in an angry sale crowd. If you want a $29 digital camera, for God's sake, wait patiently for it, don't smack the woman in front of you in the head like a damn fool."

I have some really shocking news for you, folks: I'm no longer famous.

Yeah, took me by surprise, too. But you know what? This is going to sound totally out of left field, so un-Clarissa Coleman you'll think I've been replaced by a pod, but… it's actually not too bad not being famous.

I mean, compared to being famous, it's a distant number two. But as for just being what it is, you know, it's not as bad as I thought it would be.

I've been doing some serious soul searching this week and, you know what? I found out. It's always in the last place you look. That was a big surprise. I thought for a while about being famous, 'cause I've been famous ever since I can remember, and then I thought about losing fame. 'Cause I've been a has-been since just after I can remember.

That's right: Has-been. I said it: The dread H-hyphen-B word. I'm not afraid to say it now. All of this comes from that thinking on it that I mentioned. That soul-searching. I can't remember a day in my life when I didn't have a long talk with my agent, my parents, some crazy fan, or a talent scout from a radio show morning crew, and all we ever talked about was getting back to where I was. Getting that fame back. You ever hear about the Holy Grail? It's just like that. I've been searching all my life, and believe me, it hasn't been that long even if it seems like it—looking all my life for that Holy Grail. And then I found it and, like all those archaeologists and shit that went looking for it, I found out it was just some cup Jesus drank out of. All this work for a cup with someone's germs on it.

No matter how many times I get back to the top, it's just another big struggle to stay up there. And for what? So I can get invited over to Tom Cruise's to see some sonogram of his new alien baby? So I can eat some ribs at John Goodman's backyard barbecue? Or so I can wind up at home, boycotting either of those events like Madonna because I couldn't find something to wear. That's a shallow existence, people. I can't believe I ever thought it was worth all the hell they put you through.

You see, I found me a job a couple of weeks ago. It was really just to pay the bills, and I was going to tell everybody that old "just researching for a part I'm after" bullshit if anyone recognized me, but the twist was on me: I like this job. I work in this charity kinda company, helping battered wives and homeless guys find better-paying jobs so they can get out on their own. And I got to see these people up close, and I was more surprised than you to find out they weren't so bad. Just like you and me.

I guess that made me realize, hey, maybe I'm not one of them famous people after all. Maybe I'm just another person in the world. A little bit like them, but I've had some more breaks. I haven't had to worry about money like they have—sure, I can't afford a 2005 model car just yet, but I have it pretty good. I have a place to stay and my family to help me out. Well, my sister to help me out. I don't have it so bad.

What surprised me the most about this crazy new job was that I helped all these people out, but it wasn't making them feel good that made it a decent job. It made me feel good to make them feel good. I've never had one job in Hollywood that made me feel good. And that was something nice.

So bye-bye, Hollywood. For real this time. I have work at last, and it's not what I thought it would be, but it's better than all the sitcoms and movies and walk-on appearances on every talk show there is. How about that? Maybe I'm not a child star no more. Just an adult star… who can still play incredibly young.

º Last Column: In Cognito
º more columns