What a drag, indeed, getting old is. The Rolling Stones would know; they’re damn near ancient and the uptight middle class society they were thumbing their noses at in 1965 is still too addicted to prescription drugs to realize there’s any other life to live. More addicted than ever, if anything. The Stones, being ‘bad boys’ and a danger to society, were just pointing out the hypocrisy of square establishment types who liked to point fingers at their lack of petty morals while having no petty morals of their own. From a different perspective, though, I’ve always thought that, although snarky in tone, this song is very sympathetic towards its subjects. The pilled-up housewives who don’t know how else to make it through the day are missing out on everything their degenerate sons and daughters have the freedom to enjoy, and that’s sad. The Rolling Stones aren’t exactly lionized for churning out feminist anthems, but this is The Feminine Mystique boiled down into less than three minutes. Middle class comfort and social conformity aren’t worth shit if you’re nothing but miserable. It’s a pretty clear call that the old standards are obsolete and there are other avenues of living, and it may be too late for your mother, but it’s not too late for you.