From Counterculture to Corporate Chorus.
Rolling Stone used to roar. It gave voice to the wild ones — the rebels, the radicals, the truth-tellers who lit fires under the feet of the powerful. Back then, it was raw ink on raw nerve — Dylan, Hendrix, the Vietnam protests, Watergate, gonzo journalism with blood on the typewriter. Hunter S. Thompson didn’t just write stories — he detonated them.
But now? It’s a lifestyle brand. A shell. A nostalgia machine wrapped in clickbait. These days, Rolling Stone’s more likely to carry water for establishment narratives than challenge them. They abandoned grit for gloss, traded rebellion for relevance, and decided corporate virtue-signaling was safer than real dissent.
They still talk about revolution — but only the kind that won’t scare the advertisers.
Verdict: Not SphstRDnck.
Once the voice of the people. Now just another background hum in the boardroom playlist.