Dave's Club Taboo

"You know that thing you been wantin' to do. You're just itchin' to do it. But, it's so naughty that you're afraid, shy, reticent, ashamed, embarrassed. Or, worse. Ya! That one! What you just thought of right then. That thing. [Oh. Behave!] 

Well that's what we like to see at Club Taboo. Because it is taboo . . . Club Taboo. Down and dirty."

Commentary:

During college days I was alternatively nicknamed "Pure Dave" and "Dirty Dave". "Downright Dirty Dave." It goes with the Virgo stars. Opposite polarities. We all have them. Only, mostly, we want to accentuate the positive. Particularly, in the public sphere. Hide the negative. 

Now, I'm not really advocating for anyone to do bad things. But, since you're reading this, just let me suggest that that negative side ain't going to do you no good by keeping it down. Just to accept that we all have all of it inside; good and bad. Just to accept. The Universe will take care of the rest. 

Dr. Karl Jung on the subject:

"Unfortunately there can be no doubt that man is, on the whole, less good than he imagines himself or wants to be. Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is. If an inferiority is conscious, one always has a chance to correct it. Furthermore, it is constantly in contact with other interests, so that it is continually subjected to modifications. But if it is repressed and isolated from consciousness, it never gets corrected."

True Story:

When I was transitioning from working for The Man to working for THE MAN, I worked for a prominent caterer in NYC. Waited on Grace Kelly, no less. 

They got the idea to have an after hours nightclub. Called, "Club Taboo". Really. It was in an abandoned warehouse on the West Side in the 30s. The freight elevator took you up a few flights to a huge plain loft space with an island bar. That elevator had no doors, so we used an old piece of thin plywood sheeting as a safety. Taboo, indeed. 

I was the manager. Kept the cash and had the key to the liquor vault. The boss wanted me to wear a tux. I did, a few times. But, I soon got wise that I was the only cat in the joint with a tuxedo; and if there was a robbery I would be the go-to fella the bad guys would be looking for. 

Club Taboo stayed open through the night culminating in a buffet breakfast served in the wee hours on Saturday morning. I took the cash home on the subway in a paper bag. Brought it in to the owner on Monday. Originally, I thought it was a mark of trust in me that he had me do that with the pieniądze (i.e., doe, scratch, do-ray-me, green). Then I realized that it wasn't all that much really; maybe 2-3 thousand, so he might have lifted the heavy haul himself earlier, before closing. A coupla grand from a busy nightclub ain't much scratch, man. And, like the carelessness with the tux business, the guy thought nothing of having me be on public transportation with a few thousand in the bag. (Maybe that's walking around money for some, but to me — still — that's a lot of schekels.)

Also, maybe he factored in that I would be skimming (which I didn't) to supplement the measly $100 per night pay. In the realm of the unknowable now. I could contact him, but I don't think he would either remember, or fess up if he did.