Who Cares?

The computer is down so I guess I have to use the tablet.
(Yes, it's an i-Pad but stating such seems so pretentious.)
In all honesty, I hate this thing.
No USB port, nowhere to install programs purchased on disks, and my fingertips often swipe and poke the wrong things.
Besides all that, I cannot figure out how to download photos for my blog posts.

As I always say, 'I hate running nightclubs - I'm just good at it.'.
These past few months have been good - a little too good.
We've had to stop letting people in after 12:30 am - we are always over the posted capacity.
We are attracting people younger than our stated >30 requirement.
We are getting people willing to pay ten-times the cover charge just to get in in the hopes of reaching the bar for a drink.
We are giving away more money through our benefits and fund raisers than other clubs make.
We make loans to rival clubs to keep them afloat.
We mediate behind-the-scenes deals and solutions between politicians, business owners and the media.
We are the 'in' Black club for the white establishment.
We get free television, radio and print coverage to the point that I cannot even go to any of the local malls or restaurants.
I wanted the club to be the social and cultural hub for Black business in this small town and in that I seem to be successful.

But I am tired.
I am tired of knowing who slept with whom.
I am tired of knowing about the flaws of friends.
I am tired of knowing that the exploitation of racism and class divisions are more important in getting things done and the retention of power than any solutions to those problems.
I am tired of the favored not knowing justice, virtue or honor. (Even though I may often benefit from those who bestow such favor.)
I am tired of grown-ass adults who seek popularity as though they were still in high school trying to fit in with the right cliques.
I am tired of those who: Imagine that this club is anything more than a business to me. Who think that the tenuous status associated with this club is as useful to me as my old high school popularity awards for Best Legs, Coolest, Mr Irresistible or Most Soul. Think I am impressed with any ratchet ho' who throws panties my way.
I hate clubs - they are a dirty business.

But maybe I am made for the club life.
My social climb seems to be similar to that of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho.
My decision making (while rooted in Biblical teachings) is seen as cold, calculated and manipulative.
I just wanted to run a club without focusing on money or status,
but doing so has caused me to gain much of each.
I just wanted to be able to hang out with friends in an environment I liked,
but doing so has taken up so much time that I can barely speak when they come in.