To the Native American brudda and his wife who so proudly talked pono, led sweat lodges and peyote ceremonies and made beautiful beaded spirit tools but then turned around and grew pakalolo in the house I rented to them (with no cards, putting my property at risk) and then sold my stuff at a yard sale the day before they slithered off the island, leaving a trashed house, back rent, utility bills and ripping off the private school that taught your kids: Eff you, you lying, thieving bastards! You talked pono but with forked tongues—like the snakes you are. One day your spirit guides are gonna bite you big time.
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