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Famous for Fourteen Minutes

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Famous for Fourteen Minutes by Chris Green
You will be familiar with Andy Warhol’s aphorism from the nineteen-sixties that in the future, everyone would be world-famous for fifteen minutes. A bold statement for sure, but with the subsequent spread of celebrity culture, quite a prophetic one. But for those of you who are pedantic, his prediction, if you wish to call it that, is not completely accurate. Last year, the polymath Herschel Box calculated that fame lasts for just fourteen minutes. Everyone will now be famous for fourteen minutes.
Along with the escalation of global communication technology, one of the key factors involved in the shorter period of fame must be the rapid increase in the world’s population over the last half-century. With his life tragically cut short, Andy could not have known that the human race would breed at such a rate. He himself, of course, was not a breeder.
But let us turn once more to Box’s thesis. He suggests that in a year or so, the period will come down to thirteen minutes and within two or three decades could fall to as low as ten or even eight minutes. In 2050, everyone will probably only be famous for eight minutes. Imagine that. Just eight minutes, or allowing for mathematical error, possibly only seven minutes. Extrapolating these figures, eventually, everyone will become famous for just fifteen seconds. Blink and you will miss it.
Understandably, there is a great deal of competition to become famous, and it seems some people will stop at nothing to get noticed. Osama bin Laden flew planes into the Twin Towers, Fred and Rose West buried bodies under the patio, Harold Shipman murdered his patients, Kurt Cobain put a bullet in his head, Michael Schumacher crashed fast cars. and Gwyneth Paltrow marketed vagina-scented candles. George Michael was so determined to get his fifteen minutes of fame that he had several attempts. He went Outside, he crashed cars, and finally, he took a permanent vacation.
While you yourself may not hanker after fourteen minutes of fame, you might well know someone who does. Once you start looking, there are plenty of wannabe celebrities around. Take the case of Sammy Payton, an old acquaintance of mine. A hopeless victim of the burgeoning celebrity culture, Sam was keen to grab his moment in the sun. He had a need for everyone to be aware of who he was. He realised that either he had to come up with something world-shatteringly innovative or something singularly shocking. As he was not especially creative, he had the first option down as a long shot. He understood the second option would require him to be daring, and it would need to be something that had terrible consequences, but something that did not require any special talent. Charisma, yes, but not talent. Sam Payton was not a name that would get him noticed, so he changed it to Satan. Not a big change, but one he felt would give him a better chance to make an impact.
Sam photo-bombed celebrities all over the country in his Satan garb, to try to piggyback on their fame, but to no avail. More often than not he was punched by angry subjects or their minders. But this was the only attention his efforts received. He parachuted into Wembley Stadium on Cup Final day dressed as Lucifer, only to be met with disinterest. The crowd saw it as part of the half-time entertainment. It triggered a few photos on Instagram hardly a passing mention on Twitter. Nothing in the press or on the news. His drive down the Mall towards Buck House in a tank also went unnoticed. He had picked the wrong day. No crowds. HRH was hosting a function at Windsor Castle. His stunt of sitting in the public gallery of the House of Commons, dressed as Y’golonac, got not so much as a sideways glance. It was becoming harder to shock people. Competition for fourteen minutes of fame was fierce.
Sam was unquestionably a bit of a fruitcake and wasn’t go and let go at that. He was in for the long haul. Do or die for Sam. Eminent psychologists have been suggesting for some time that the obsessive pursuit of fame might be linked to mental illness. It is an entirely different driving force to ambition. It goes way beyond healthy striving to succeed. It becomes an all-consuming compulsion. Yet there are millions like Sam, whose only goal in life is to be admitted into the prestigious fourteen-minute club.
So what are the benefits of membership of the club? Like the magician’s rabbit, you will appear from out of nowhere. People will look at you in wonder. They will bow down before you. You will look down from on high. You will be Jesus’s son. You will be the people’s messiah. For fourteen minutes, you will be the world’s salvation, their escape, their ecstasy. You will be the people’s orgasm. You will be their cocaine hit. Their euphoric escape from their everyday strife.
But there are drawbacks. You will realise almost immediately you arrive wherever it is that the clock is ticking. Like the effects of the nose-candy, your high will be short-lived. You will be soon forgotten. It will be downhill from here. It will seem a long way down. Wannabes will say there is a has-been. They will laugh at you. You will realise fame is an illusion. You will sink into depression. Turn to drink or drugs. You may even take your own life.
Andy Warhol was aware of the transient nature of fame, which was how he came to coin the now-familiar phrase. He was aware too that mass communication would be the driver behind celebrity culture. Herschel Box was on hand latterly to do the sums. Sam Payton was seduced by the allure of the fame machine. You could well have your own Sam Payton in your neighbourhood. With seven hundred and twenty people becoming famous every week, who knows? Your Sam might achieve his fourteen minutes of fame.
People, of course, used to be famous for much longer. Think Beethoven – two hundred years and counting, Shakespeare – five hundred years, Michelangelo – six hundred years, Jesus – two thousand years plus, Adam and Eve – pretty much forever. Warhol himself has been famous for sixty years. If you became famous, the wisdom used to be that you stayed famous. You made it into the encyclopaedia. Are those days gone? Wikipedia doesn’t quite do it. It is transitory. Do we need to become accustomed to two or more levels of fame? Perhaps we might think of them as fame, fame plus and fame plus plus.
But this debate can wait for another day. I’ve just had an email update from the Herschel Box site. It’s down to thirteen minutes.
Copyright © Chris Green, 2024: All rights reserved
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Famous for Fourteen Minutes by Chris Green
You will be familiar with Andy Warhol’s aphorism from the nineteen-sixties that in the future, everyone would be world-famous for fifteen minutes. A bold statement for sure, but with the subsequent spread of celebrity culture, quite a prophetic one. But for those of you who are pedantic, his prediction, if you wish to call it that, is not completely accurate. Last year, the polymath Herschel Box calculated that fame lasts for just fourteen minutes. Everyone will now be famous for fourteen minutes.
Along with the escalation of global communication...

Famous for Fourteen Minutes

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