Please stay with me.
I need you to hold my hand with this one.
Remember Poppy Andy Warhol’s prediction “In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.”?
Well the future is now folks, and here is what I am asking,
How do you know when your 15 minutes are up?
Mostly I want to know if my small (important) cameo in the classical movie The RM qualified me for retirement from further fame.
Do I give up now?
I’m pretty sure I was also included on the mtn network’s coverage of last week’s BYU vs. UTAH STATE game (if you want to call that a game, more like a shell of a game). A camera man repeatedly shoved a camera in my face every time I stood up to participate in “Rise and Shout” also when the tuba played Popcorn Popping. No matter.
Once I went to a Jazz game and appeared on the JumboTron. I was just dancing in my seat when my face lit up the Delta Center for all to see. At first I was surprised, screamed and then regained my dancing coolness for which I was singled out and exploited.
Does exploitation make you REALLY famous?
And one time I was interviewed on the news as a senior in high school because I was involved with the UVSC concurrent program. Yep that’s right. I was wearing a floral scrunchie.
If I brought back scrunchies in to style I would definitely have my 15 minutes in the briefcase and I’d be forgetting the Samsonite combination!
I am getting worked up now.
Let’s bring it down a little.
I’m mean, let’s be serious.
Once I visited my 15 minutes swallowing husband on a movie set about pioneers. A lady approached me and asked if I would like to get in to costume and jump in with the other under-paid extras.
“You have a lovely pioneer face.” She complimented.
Now that I think about it,
Is that a compliment?
In the end it took some contemplation to answer her. I didn’t want to show up my actory husband. I was also thinking of our future children. It would be difficult (and I know this from True Hollywood Stories) for them to have two parents in The Business. So I bowed out.
Did I give up my 15 minutes?
Are we born with a reserve of famous 15 minutes and by menopause if it’s not used it up, it will slowly melt away with repetitive hot flashes?
Or is the 15 minutes located on a gene somewhere?
Maybe I was born without a Famous 15 Minute gene?
Are there blood tests for this?
Is it possibly genetic?
Because both of my parents are considerably well-known.
Which brings up a good point.
What constitutes famous?
Can your 15 minutes manifest itself in various realms? Say I was popular in high school (just an example) does a secondary school experience count? Or what if I was famous in the ward? Or the ward at the hospital? Or Ward Cleaver?
Ward Cleaver had a good go at the 15 minutes.
Wouldn’t you agree?
Can my 15 minutes be split?
7 seconds when I am 21 and
7 seconds when I am 32
and 1 left-over for when I die?
Can your 15 minutes be posthumous?
If I had my way, which I rarely do, I would like to have my famous 15 minutes whilst in the mortal tabernacle of flesh-like clay. Mostly because it would be nice to blow kisses for at least a portion of the 15 minutes.
Speaking of which, I was once in the exclusive America’s Freedom Festival at Provo Parade. I am pretty sure everyone in Provo saw me. I was hot.
I meant it was hot.
Being in that parade.
Did you really think that I would write “I was hot”? I think you are only entitled to that self-promoting line if you are free and clear sure that your 15 minutes are up and you’ve still got some semblance of confidence.
Something to shoot for folks.
Well, anyway, if this post gets a lot of comments I might consider meditating to Andy’s ghost and asking him if I could die tomorrow knowing that my 15 minutes were well-lived on the Blog Segullah blog. But if comments were to come in AFTER I died than my 15 minutes would be sort of posthumous. . .ly.
I am sweating.