Guess he must've been below a certain age, or getting the Clash confused with Crass. But-but-but wasn't it always 100% about the money? McLaren, a fake Teddy Boy art-school barrow-boy, part-Artful Dodger, part Jack Parnell wannabe-impresario ... duckin' and divin', full of half-baked cash-grabbing schemes... putting the Pistols on a Fiver, a Tenner a week pocket-money 'wages', his bagman dishing out money for food and drink when band-members complained on the tour-bus, Jonesy nicking stuff to make a living... The Pistols as a YTS group... McLaren constantly disappearing off to Paris, NY, LA for 'meetings' while the group lived off sulphate, sandwiches and lager... McLaren and Rhodes racing one another for The Big Score; then McLaren upping the game to make a film (more money than records), but it was his undoing: Hollywood is a nest of bigger, hungrier bullshitters than McLaren could ever be.
Of course Punk was about the money.
Maybe not your Punk or my Punk: DIY bands in village-halls, desperate teenage reinvention; "it was all over by '78," say the hipsters... or maybe the labels had other, easier cash-cows to milk: Disco, 'New Wave'... oh, sure there was no money in your Punk or my Punk, just little lives and dreams that got partially unlocked only for Real Life to double-bar the door again, but some of us made it a few yards down the road before the factory-whistle resummoned us.
It was Virgin Records who won the court-case in Feb, 1979, not Rotten or McLaren: the Pistols (the brand not the band) is the Virgin Group's asset to exploit now as they see fit.
Superficially. the Pistols credit-card is a late conceptual coda to the fake situationist-satire 'product' images that Jamie Reid was producing for the Great Rock n Roll Swindle album ("Viciousburgers", etc), but - nah - it's been denuded of any 'wit' or situationist corpse-bile that Reid may have been trying to instil into the (mostly-rejected) art he did for Virgin... this is the Late Neo-Lib Era, so "Nothing Here But The Branding".
Now, if Virgin Money did a Henry Cow credit-card... heh.
Richard Branson remains, esto perpetua, a cunt.