Ah, yes, Mick Jagger – born to upper-middle-class parents in the suburbs of London, recipient of a scholarship to the London School of Economics – the embodiment of all that is rebellion, dissent and class struggle. The only class struggle Jagger ever fought was a downward one, trying to transform himself from a tony Londoner into the Street Fighting Man. It was never more than a persona, though–Mick always has been and always will be a jet-setter, happy to live a Lifestyle of the Rich & Famous while putting on his bluesman image for the stage. He and Keith were not nicknamed “The Glimmer Twins” in the 70s for nothing. They were the symbol of all that was rock star decadence.
Exactly, pld, so if he’s upper class, let him be knighted. Sorry I just adore him! 
So I’m really happy about him getting the knighthood. Now he can rescue me from whatever perils i might get into.
Well, let’s check the pros and the cons.
Pro: he made some great music.
Con: he did a lot of other stuff which are in no way relevant.
I say knight him.
Nobody should be knighted anymore imho.
I’m still trying to figure out why the Queen’s waving or scowling or whatever should have anything to do with knighting gnomes, trolls, elves or other statuary lawn vermin.
I have another story. A few years ago I attended a government funded course designed to assist people find employment. I had attended many practical skills courses prior this one but those I had paid for with my life savings which had dissipated somewhat in the process. Now, in Ice Wolf’s country if you are a cleaner*, you stay a cleaner, right? No amount of nightschool, no amount of training will ever get you a better job because you need work experience as well. Work experience is everything and how do you get experience at a computer help desk, for instance, if you are a cleaner? There’s a caste system in place here. They only take “the best”.
So, this compulsory course I was attending after providing myself with useful training was the kind where new age, Tony Robins, faux psychology motivation stuff is taught, right? Visualise-your- goal-and-you-will-achieve-it kind of stuff. My companions for the week were a mixture of recent immigrants and educationally thwarted individuals 3 of whom seemed to be ex-bikers. These people didn’t seemed to know what paradigm shifts were when asked much to the glee of the “motivators”. I expected that bikers ex or otherwise would have made mincemeat of these wankers but they seemed to have had the stuffing knocked out of them over a period of time and they were curiously docile. It was me, the spinster who spent the whole week plotting to blow up (assenting) dead people in town at lunch time as a protest against unemployment. It was me who…oh well, never mind. I’m sure you get the picture.
Life’s a lot better for ne’erdowells with Jagger, Hendrix, Plant and Page in it, that’s all. Better for everyone who could have been someone and isn’t because of their place in a hierarchy at the top of which are the knighthood bestowers. And if you can’t understand why, I’m wondering just how much of a disappointment those Dopefests could be.
*I’m not one yet
Hokay, taking notes here.
In order to rant about Mick Jagger being knighted, one requires:[ul][]A vague anecdote about the Queen looking at you funny;[]Something about a priviliged rock star being involved in a “class struggle” of some sort;[]Something about New Zealand having a caste system, at least in the cleaning industry;[]A completely unrelated story about a job training course with ex-bikers.[/ul]Anything else?
Funny. I’d have said it was how many degrees you have up one arm and down the other that best determines whether you get a “better job” in NZ. Must be different in G.Nome’s country. Interesting.
Just what glancing critiques with regard to the employment situation in this part of the Antipodes has t’ do with Mick Jagger, G. Nome’s hero-worship of the Rolling Stones (hey, I’m not knocking hero-worship. Whatever tilts th’ lance at th’ windmill, y’know?) and the Queen probably having some bad indigestion one day back in the '60s – who knows?
FWIW – my opinion is: if you want to stay a cleaner, you’ll stay a cleaner. If you want to be better, and have the clear vision, the drive, and the guts – you’ll be something other than a cleaner. It’s down to the individual, not the way o’ the world.
I’d rather hero-worship th’ folk who actually build the stage, than those who merely prance upon the boards.
Sorry. Just realised I put in an unintentional double-meaning, there. By “the boards”, I mean the boards on a stage, not the SDMB.
Ed Koch once told me to fuck off.
I’m not sure what that No. 3 Hi Opal Cat thing means (I’m not alone) but for some reason I associate it with anal sex. Every time someone says No. 3 Hi Opal Cat it sounds to me like they’re saying, in reality, nudge nudge wink wink say no more. Tell me why it seems this way.
Evening, squire. He said knowingly.
Also I’d like to say, this is so Spoofy Woofy 2000. It brings back memories of the time my name appeared frequently in BBQ subject lines. I only knew about the first one by absolute chance because I was new and I only went to General Questions and IMHO. Those were the days. Asberger Boy doesn’t answer me back any more. I’m not sure why. How about it Spoofe? Why don’t you call me a fucking idiot for old time’s sake.
Dude, This is half the royalty 
I’m confused now. How does blowing up dead people constitute a protest against unemployment? And how do the dead people give their assent? Is this ouija-board stuff, or were they carrying some sort of donor card prior to their demise? (“In the event of my death, I would like my body to be used for peculiar protests against unemployment.”) For that matter, when you say “blow up”, are you talking explosives or foot-pumps? So many questions…
I’m not even getting the frame. No matter; I shall paint my own picture, with the pigment of the imagination, upon the canvas of unrealised dreams, and hang it in the gallery of perplexity…
G.Nome, love, have you been not sleeping again?
elucidator, that prompted me to a.) laugh out loud, loudly, at four in the morning, and b.) go bad mental image!! several times over.
With regard to the OP:
As satisfying as anything J.G. Ballard ever wrote, only shorter.
Prepare to be bugg-- err, plagiarized.
Mwahahaha.
So you’re saying he was more fit for a noble title instead?
Now all Mick needs is some shining armor.
And a fine Arab charger.
And a desert.