Caleb Hearon Doesn’t Want To Be Any More Famous

Caleb Hearon Doesn’t Want To Be Any More Famous

Sep 12, 2025

Caleb Hearon is an empath.

Okay, the label is far too self aggrandizing for Hearon to own, but there’s something within the multi-hyphenate’s spirit that allows him to have a seemingly boundless capacity for understanding. That’s why when Youtube super-succubus Mr. Beast had a shit fit on socials after Hearon was ranked above him Rolling Stone’s list of 25 most influential creators of 2025 (Hearon was #6, Mr. Beast, #7,) Hearon didn’t respond with anger.

“I thought it was funny,” Hearon tells me while cozied up on a couch in his sun-filled Brooklyn loft. “He and I talked about it. I was like, ‘You're literally right.’” Indeed, Mr. Beast has over 431 million followers on Youtube, whereas Hearon’s biggest social channel, TikTok, has north of 1 million. Not that Hearon cares about any of these metrics. “I cannot imagine having [431] million followers [on Youtube],” he says. “I don't desire it. I don't want to know what it's like… but I 100% understand that if that's the position that you have put yourself in, that you would get spun out about a Rolling Stone list.”

That said, Hearon’s own level of cultural attention — massive social followings, a highly consumed podcast, a forthcoming role in Devils Wear Prada 2, and, as of September 19th, an HBO comedy special, Caleb Hearon: Model Comedian — is all a bit much. “We are either at the moment or close to the moment of jumping the shark on the whole thing,” he offers, plainly. “I actually liked where I was [in my career] a little bit ago.”

Hearon, while remaining coy about his conversation with Mr. Beast, does share that the two genuinely connected about some of the difficulties of receiving so much online attention, with Hearon taking a quasi-therapeutic approach with the internet mega-star. “I basically told him that I hope he has good people around him that he could talk to earnestly about this experience,” he recalls, later contrasting his own approach to digital life. “I'm genuinely not pursuing influence, at least not consciously. Influence or followers are a natural byproduct of my job if it's going well.”

It’s not that Hearon’s not grateful for his opportunities, or the love from his fans, or the ability to tour and make money as a comedian. It's just that, as he says, “he struggles with being perceived.” Still, he has perspective. “I get to make jokes for a living. It's a pretty small price to pay. My grandpa worked on the railroad his whole life. I'm like, I'll be okay,” he admits.

His distance from much of the social aspect of Hollywood allows him to stay rooted in his perspective, which he defines bluntly as “[coming] from growing up in Missouri, very poor [and] being a fat, queer person.” Plus, he simply prefers to stay far away. “I’d rather have a root canal than go to these fucking [‘Young Hollywood Parties’],” before adding: “Any space where you can only get in if you're famous and rich is not a good space to be in.” Hear, hear.

Read below for more from our chat with Hearon about navigating newfound fame, his memorable interaction with Mr. Beast and processing grief through comedy.

It seems like you’re doing a million things right now. Has this month been particularly insane for you?

It's been especially weird, for sure.

Weird equals busy?

Busy is constant. I've been busy [for a while], which is nice, but I talk openly about struggling with being perceived on the level that I am… so the heightening of that via recent events has been like, “Oh God, I guess I knew it was coming, but now I have to actually reckon with it happening.”

There’s the ambient perception of being perceived online, which you've been navigating for a while, but I imagine your day to day life has changed a lot recently too?

I try to pretend it's not happening. People will come up a lot and be like, “Oh my God, I love your stand up, or I love your podcast.” In the moment, I try to just be like, “Thank you so much. That's so sweet. What's your name? Do you want a picture?” And then I try to Men In Black-style, whoosh [moves his hand across his forehead] … that didn't happen. Because if I think about it too much, it makes me really sad because then I'm like, “Oh, I'm being looked at when I'm just trying to hang out.” But there's days and weeks where it's just unavoidable and you're like, “Oh, I'm a, a publicly commented on person.”

Luckily [attention] has been pretty charmed for me so far. People are mean, of course, but some of my friends have had it way worse. I haven't been widely reviled yet. I'm certain that it's coming. We love to build up and tear down. There was a time last year where there were 5 different people posting viral videos in one week saying, “Caleb Haeron is the funniest person who’s ever lived” and glazing me.

The evil eye is coming …

All I felt was fear. The natural next step of this… we've seen it 1 billion times. Everyone's going to decide to hate me. I was like, “Guys, can it just be our secret? If you like my stuff, let's let it stay between us.” It's nice, but it’s that foreboding thing that the other shoe will drop. So the best thing for me is to pretend that it's not happening and be like, “I am a regular guy and my job is kind of funny because a bunch of people know who I am.”

What do you attribute this cycle of building up and tearing down to? I feel like it’s particularly acute in comedy.

Jealousy is a normal emotion. That's not to say that anyone that dislikes me is jealous. There are probably valid reasons to dislike me … I would be interested to hear the argument. But I do think when we root for people we want to see them get what we think we would want, which is fame, money, attention and success in their career. And so we root for them when we first find them because we feel like it's a secret to us. And then when they have it, there's this thing that happens where people go like, “Well, why you? You're not special.”

It's like, “No, I know that. I actually was just trying to make you laugh and now it's a thing.” I don't know why we do that, but I also think over a long enough arc … [I] can only be funny in the way that I'm funny right now for so long. Right now I have a very specific voice that comes from having grown up in Missouri, very poor, being a fat, queer person. I've got a couple really good years here of commenting on the world as I see it and it actually being relevant and interesting. You just can't live in that pocket forever. You lifestyle out of it. You money out of it. There are just several things that take you out of it. “ost fat people lose the weight.” Something will take you away from your authentic and compelling perspective eventually, and maybe you'll have a version of it for your whole career if you're lucky.

Right now I can talk about being young and gay and it's working because I am. And then we'll see if I adapt or not. But part of the question — “Why do we love people and then leave them behind?” — is that if you're a successful comedian for long enough, especially someone who's commenting on the issues of the day or has an edge to their humor, eventually it'll probably stop working and so you have to find something else to do. People who are able to do that forever are a very unique and small case.

If you're able to maintain authenticity, you can adapt that perspective, though. Dave Chappelle’s recent comedy doesn't work for so many reasons, but a giant one is: “Wow, you're really staying on the same gross joke with the same take for 7 specials?” I wouldn't foresee you staying in the same pocket over and over again.

I don't think that I would, but who knows. That's another funny thing about having this level of attention. Everyone has these ideas about how they would handle it, and I'm like, “Well, you don't know, and I know that you don't know… because I don't know.”

I really have empathy for a lot of people who are public figures, because money changes your perspective so much. I understand why famous people want to eat at the private dinner clubs, because you get left alone. But then when you're only hanging out with other people who are famous or rich. You're inherently going to lose perspective, because you're around the most boring people who have ever lived. I understand wanting to go to dinner and not be pestered, but also, so much more than that, want to live a normal life around regular people and not only hang out with other people who have the influence or the money to be in the same space as me. I hate that idea. That sounds really sad to me, which is partly why I spend so much time in Kansas City, because I feel like I get to live my regular normal life. So many people there knew me before I had a lot of attention on me. That feels nice.

Are you speaking from experience regarding the deep boredom of existing in an elite Hollywood milieu?

This is not a drag on these people. I actually understand totally. I also become boring in those settings. I get invited to the “Hollywood, powerful, young” parties… I would rather have a root canal than go to these fucking things. It's not fun. I don't like it. Thankfully because of the internet, I don't feel like I have to be photographed at these things in order to keep working. I created my own little thing, which I'm grateful for, but any space where you can only get in if you're famous and rich enough is not a good space to be in. It's really gross.

But the internet attention I receive is weird and funny. I just continue to still feel like, “Really?” It goes to a level where I'm surprised by it, but I'm okay with it as much as I can be.

You're surprised by the scope of the attention you receive at this point?

Here's what I'll say: Sometimes when people who don't like me are like, “You guys are glazing this guy too much.” It gets to a point where you're like, “We could relax a little bit.”

That’s just the internet. Everything is so extreme.

Yeah, I totally get it and I'm just grateful. I get to make jokes for a living. That's really cool. It's awesome. It's a pretty small price to pay. My grandpa worked on the railroad his whole life. I'm like, “I'll be okay. People commenting on whether or not they like me or think I'm funny is like… it's not a bad way to make a living. I try to remember that a lot because it could be very easy to get self-righteous or indignant about it. It's nice to remember overall that this is a pretty charmed existence.

Did you feel any sense of indignance or actual frustration with Mr. Beast?

[Laughs intensely] No!

He’s coming for your crown!

I thought it was funny. He and I talked about it. I also thought he was right. I was like, You're literally right.

He called you?

Yeah, he did. He reached out. It was very nice of him. I was like, “You really don't have to.” I wasn't bothered by it. Maybe I would feel differently if it got me a bunch of negative attention, but people were mad at him… which I'm like, I get it, but I've never been a fan of something enough to get in the comments about it. He posted something that was a little mean … I thought it was funny-mean. People got really mad at him. He deleted it and apologized. He's fine. I wish him well.

He also called Rolling Stone The Rolling Stones. He came for you. He had a faux pas. Things equal out. Life moves on.

There were so many publications that were writing, “Mr. Beast comes for comedian Caleb Hearon’s crown and Caleb claps back in classy response.” There was really no clap back. I posted [Mr. Beast’s post on X] because I thought it was the funniest thing. I wasn't going to post myself on a Rolling Stone list. I don’t post my press at all. But I thought it was funny, so I was like, I'll post it, because it's a funny way to talk about it. He said something silly, he deleted it. I just don't think it was like a big event. I mean it objectively did turn into a big event… I understand that there were tens of thousands of tweets and comments but I thought it was funny.

I told Mr. Beast this when he called me. I said, “I really feel for you. I actually understand why you could get spun up about a list.” Because, to his point, I have a much smaller [audience than him] and I struggle with it. I cannot imagine having [431] million followers. I don't desire it. I don't want to know what it's like. I don't know how you do it. I don't know why you do it, but I 100% understand that if that's the position that you have put yourself in, that you would get spun out about a Rolling Stone list.

What did he say?

He agreed. I basically told him that I hope he has good people around him that he could talk to earnestly about this experience, and he asked me if I ever get spun out about lists and rankings. I was like, “Genuinely, no.” But I feel the impulse and I have built a life where I don't spin out about that very intentionally, because I've seen the writing on the wall about the way that that can make you feel.

I'm genuinely not pursuing influence, at least not consciously. Influence or followers are a natural byproduct of my job if it's going well. I'm not trying to get more followers and I'm not trying to get bigger views. With my podcast as well, I like the amount of people that listen to my show. I like the amount of tickets I can sell. I don't need to go to bigger venues. I don't want to play stadiums. I’m really quite happy with where things are at right now and so I think the reason that something like that doesn't spin me out is that I'm not in pursuit of influence. I'm in pursuit of paying my bills without losing sleep over it, making people laugh and doing the projects I want to do. The project I wanted to do for like 2 and a half years was an HBO special, and I am.

There's really nothing more to want except for creative fulfillment with nice people who want to make good shit and I'm pretty much getting to do that at the moment, so I feel pretty good.

You're saying that beyond what you currently have, [more attention] might be a scale that seems untenable?

We are either at the moment or close to the moment of jumping the shark on the whole thing. I actually liked where I was at a little bit ago. I stopped caring about followers a very long time ago. It’s not to say this has never been a concern of mine. When I was in Chicago, of course I wanted more followers because I wanted validation and the career that I now have. I know where my money comes from and I know my bills are paid, and I can take care of my mom. If I need to get on a plane and go somewhere to see somebody or do something, I can, now that those things are figured out, it's kind of like a Maslow's hierarchy creatively.

I can pretty much get anything made that I want in some regard. I can go to a show in most places and it'll do okay and my bills are paid. Once that happened, like 1.5-2 years ago, all the follower stuff and the view stuff really fell off for me. I was like, I no longer would like to care about that or think about that, which is nice.

It seems inevitable, because you have a special coming out … I watched it.

Did you like it?

I thought it was funny and moving …

Would you tell me if you didn't like it?

I liked it! I've seen your work before as clips and podcasts, here and there, but I didn't know the scope of your story. So I think it served that purpose, which I imagine, if this is something you've been working on for so long, was the intention?

I've got 10 years of material. I could put anything in there that I wanted. My managers and I actually sat down — they’re very good friends of mine and I've worked with them for a long time — and we were like, “The most important thing here is to introduce yourself. There's gonna be a bunch of people that, because it's HBO, are going to be discovering you for the first time. Or you're some gay guy that they've seen in their phone, and if they do choose to click into this and watch it, they're going be learning more about you than ‘gay guy in phone.’”

I wanted it to be introductory. I wanted it to be honest. I wanted it to showcase my perspective on the world. First and foremost, of course, I just want people to laugh. But it does serve a larger purpose that informs people about who I am moving forward. If people watch this special and they choose to go see me in a movie or they choose to come see a live show or they choose to follow my podcast, this would have informed them about who I am and why I think the way that I think and what I'm allowed to joke about.

The thing that struck me about it is, and I hope this is a word that doesn't make you run and scream, but it felt incredibly heartfelt.

Okay, that’s cool. The word I was scared of was “brave.”

Never in a million years! Sometimes I struggle with comedy today, because irony and bits can so often be used to run away from the audience, whereas I feel like comedy can be, as cheesy it sounds, a bridge to people.That's what I got from your story.

I hope the special will bring people in. My comedy in general can sometimes be “whiplashy.”It's the design. One moment I’m talking deeply earnestly and not very funnily about real feelings that I have about the world and things that are happening to me, and then the next moment, I am almost inhabiting a character who has completely opposite ideas of my own. That's how my friends and I talk: all the queer friend groups that I'm in and also my family. I have very early memories of my aunt being like, “Your grandma's being a dumb bitch, you need to help her in the kitchen.” And it's like so clear that she's kidding and loves her and also wants me to go help … There is a sarcasm to it, but it's not there to push you away and never tell you anything about myself. It's only there to serve the truth, which is actual love and heartfelt connection.

I do have a real problem with the irony poisoning of the culture, which I think some people would find funny to hear me say because some people who have only encountered my stuff in passing have only seen me be facetious, so they think that that's my whole beat. My hope would be that if there are any of those people who have only seen me on somebody else's podcast or in a passing clip being facetious and kind of annoying, that maybe they would go watch [this special] and be like, “Oh, he's an actual human being.”

Was there anything when you're crafting the special that gave you pause or nervousness around sharing?

For anyone that came to the live shows where I was working on this hour, there is a huge chunk about my family's grieving process about my dad that I took out. I loved it in the room and I loved sharing it with the audiences, but that I removed for a couple of reasons. It felt fine in the room with people, but on HBO it felt a little bit like pimping out my family's trauma for content and it just felt like a different thing to record it and put it out forever. If I die in a couple of months — I hope I don't — this special will be like the big piece of work that I put out in my lifetime. And I didn't want some of that more personal stuff to live in there forever. And then the second reason is that I felt like I had funnier stuff.

There are other things I want to do. I hope that I help people with their relationships to themselves and others more. I hope that maybe I can help people process the grief of losing like a parent, or that just by virtue of being myself and loving myself and not being a fat person who hates themselves in public, that that'll do something for people. But first and foremost, I really just would like people to laugh.