Talk of the Devil: Encounters with Seven Dictators

Overview

Riccardo Orizio has sought out deposed dictators around the world -- in part to witness what effect (if any) forced retirement has had on their conscience, in part to see what light their lives and thoughts can shed on our own. He found Idi Amin, before he died, living as a guest in Saudi Arabia, laughing off his murderous past, while Paris-based Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier -- in his first interview since fleeing Haiti -- speaks about voodoo and the women in his life.

By ...

See more details below
Available through our Marketplace sellers.
Other sellers (Hardcover)
  • All (56) from $1.99   
  • New (5) from $7.99   
  • Used (51) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$7.99
Seller since 2007

Feedback rating:

(445)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

New
Brand new. Clean, unmarked pages. Good binding and cover. Hardcover and dust jacket. Black remainder mark. Ships daily.

Ships from: Boonsboro, MD

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$15.00
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(3)

Condition: New
New first edition, first printing hardcover and dust jacket in mint condition. Protective mylar cover. 0.85 x 8.76 x 5.72 Inches 224 pages

Ships from: Arlington, TX

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$17.50
Seller since 2007

Feedback rating:

(445)

Condition: New
Gift quality. Clean, unmarked pages. Good binding and cover. Hardcover and dust jacket. Ships daily.

Ships from: Boonsboro, MD

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$19.95
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(3)

Condition: New
Brand new first edition, first printing hardcover and dust jacket in mint condition. Mylar cover.

Ships from: Arlington, TX

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$45.00
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(178)

Condition: New
Brand new.

Ships from: acton, MA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Close
Sort by
Sending request ...

Overview

Riccardo Orizio has sought out deposed dictators around the world -- in part to witness what effect (if any) forced retirement has had on their conscience, in part to see what light their lives and thoughts can shed on our own. He found Idi Amin, before he died, living as a guest in Saudi Arabia, laughing off his murderous past, while Paris-based Jean-Claude "Baby Doc" Duvalier -- in his first interview since fleeing Haiti -- speaks about voodoo and the women in his life.

By turns chilling and comical, rational and absurd, the seven encounters in Talk of the Devil showcase Orizio's gifts of observation and his skill at getting people to reveal themselves and bring back into focus forgotten history and people we have viewed as evil incarnate. Stripped of their power and titles, they are oddly human, and in Orizio's hands their stories, and his own, are compulsively readable.

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

The Washington Post
Orizio specifically pursued figures whose careers ended in utter disgrace, in the indignity of exile or imprisonment, because those despots still in power, or those merely ousted from it, "tend not to examine their own conscience." And so he tracked down figures like Amin and Bokassa, as well as Nexhmije Hoxa, widow and co-tyrant of Albanian dictator Enver Hoxha, Polish premier Gen. Wojciech Jaruzelski, Haitian president Jean-Claude Duvalier, Ethiopian leader Mengistu Haile-Mariam and Serbian leader Slobodan Milosevic and his wife, Mira. Orizio seems to have hoped to come up with a series of cautionary narratives told by the tyrants themselves, and thereby to humanize these remote and forbidding figures. — Chandrahas Choudhury
USA Today
Chapters of this book should be mandatory reading in high school history classes. They show what evils people can unleash and that the horrors of a Hitler or Stalin are not just in the past. Although uneven, the tales of these tyrants punch through in vivid ways. — Tom Squitieri
Publishers Weekly
The "devils" in this series of stakeouts are disgraced, deposed dictators, and one thing's for sure: they're not about to apologize for the atrocities they and their underlings committed. An Italian journalist, Orizio travels around the world to speak with leaders ranging from Uganda's Idi Amin to the Polish Communist Gen. Wojciech Jaruzelski. Only those leaders who have not truly been rehabilitated qualify under Orizio's criteria. The results, while generally strong, are a bit uneven. Some of the interviews are stunning-the current wife of former Haitian ruler "Baby Doc" Duvalier defends her husband's regime as bringing equality to darker-skinned Haitians, while the former Ethiopian ruler Haile Mengistu defends his reign of terror as necessary to fight "chaos." These aren't people about to reform their ways. In fact, several of the leaders, or in some cases their wives, appear to be planning for dictatorship redux. In Albania, for instance, the wife of Stalinist Enver Hoxha gets out of jail and begins campaigning for a return to power. "The forces of obscurantism have destroyed the Socialist system in Albania," she says. Other trips are less fruitful. Orizio's search for Idi Amin in Jedda, Saudi Arabia, where he now lives as a fervent Muslim, seems like a wild goose chase until, as Orizio's about to give up and leave, he's granted a few minutes with the notorious Amin. But even there, the author weaves in enough history to make the chapter worthwhile. This tale of a journalist looking for former tyrants now living in relative obscurity is entertaining and raises provocative questions about what these men deserve for their cruel reigns. 7 b&w photos. (May) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Italian journalist Orizio (Lost White Tribes, 2001) calls on seven of the world’s leading monsters and reports their various comeuppances. Opening up files amassed during 18 years as a foreign correspondent, the author profiles formerly newsmaking despots now largely forgotten. Idi Amin, the former dictator of Uganda, is the most fortunate of Orizio’s subjects: having converted to Islam in the final days of his rule, when he indeed ate a few of his compatriots (complaining all the while that human meat was too salty), Amin skedaddled to Saudi Arabia, where he spends his days in well-appointed gyms and shopping malls. (An Indian shopkeeper in Jeddah describes him as "one of my best customers. A delightful man.") But Amin, Orizio reports, appears to be restless, and lately he has been masterminding a guerrilla insurrection in northern Uganda in the hope of one day returning to power. Less ambitious is Wojciech Jaruzelski, the general who ruled Poland with an iron hand during the Solidarity uprising; he is content to live out his days, by Orizio’s account, with a small state pension, attending parties at the Russian embassy in Warsaw and occasionally protesting that had he not cracked down on dissidents, the Soviets surely would have done so. Neither Baby Doc Duvalier, the onetime supreme boss of Haiti, nor Jean-Bedel Bokassa, the deposed self-styled emperor of what is now the Central African Republic, harbor much hope of returning to power--living in comfort in France, they don’t have much reason to. Others, however, long for the day when they can exercise their inhuman skills in terror; notable among them is Mira Markovic, who with husband Slobodan Milosevic pushed Yugoslavia toward adecade of wars while "they chirruped between themselves like the lovers on a Valentine card." Readers will take deserved pleasure in these tyrants’ falls, and in Orizio’s sharp, literate prose.
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780802714169
  • Publisher: Walker & Company
  • Publication date: 3/1/2004
  • Pages: 224
  • Product dimensions: 5.72 (w) x 8.76 (h) x 0.84 (d)

Meet the Author

Riccardo Orizio has been a foreign correspondent for eighteen years, living in Milan, Brussels, Atlanta, where he worked for CNN, and London, where he reported for La Repubblica. He has covered the wars in the Balkans and filed reports from more than eighty countries. The author of Lost White Tribes, which was short-listed for the Thomas Cook Travel Book Award, he now lives in Kenya.

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

Talk of the Devil

Encounters with Seven Dictators
By Riccardo Orizio

Walker & Company

Copyright © 2002 Riccardo Orizio
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0802714161


Chapter One

A greying official in tails ... sounded a gong and then, straightening up, read from a paper: `His Excellency President for Life Field Marshal Al Hadj Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular welcomes the Court of Kampala and assembled worthies of the city to this his annual banquet.

from The Last King of Scotland by Giles Foden

As one flies into Jeddah at dawn, the city looks as though someone has just thrown a bucket of whitewash over it.

The light is already dazzling, but the air is still cool. The huge airport appears deserted. The terminals open to the public - five or maybe ten of them, standing one behind the other - are empty. Those reserved for the royal family gleam in the desert, sealed and inaccessible. Rows of white condominiums built during the economic boom are separated by expanses of gelatinous sand. Mosques and supermarkets seem frozen in the surreal glacé icing, sticky and transparent, that overlays the Arabian desert in the passage between night and day.

As yet unbroken by the roar of air-conditioning, the silence of a Jeddah dawn is sinister.

I am in a car with my official escort, a functionary of the Ministry of Information, tall and mistrustful. He was waiting for me beside the steps of the aircraft when I arrived from Rome. Without even asking my name - as if he knew me already - he whisked me through passport control and customs with a couple of brusque words to the officials. The driver is a foreigner, a black African. Not once has he met my eyes. Both are wearing the regular garb of the loyal Saudi subject: the long white robe called thawb, black Italian moccasins, and round the head the ghutra an iqal, a shawl secured with a black cord.

I feel uneasy. I have the sensation that Abdullah, my escort, is reading my mind, that he knows my secret. I try to distract him with preposterous questions about trade relations between our two countries and about the friendship uniting them. Then I pluck up the courage to ask him about the austerity measures recently adopted by the Saudi government, indeed by his own family, to control the unprecedented economic crisis. Abdullah replies in monosyllables. He loosens up only when revealing that he worked for a year in London, at the bureau of the Saudi news agency. `As a journalist?' I ask. No. I try the alternative. `Business manager?' Another negative. So I opt for silence. After a while he says, `As an observer of English life.' Then, with evident sorrow, he adds, 'But the Ministry of Information withdrew the funding and I had to come home.'

Abdullah must be aware that I am the first Italian journalist in a long time to have been granted a visa. Sitting in the car, he regards me with curiosity. Perhaps he's wondering who my highly placed friends are. I would certainly not be here were it not for a recent and bizarre diplomatic initiative on the part of our minister for foreign affairs, who visited Saudi Arabia three times in less than twelve months. His first visit was seen in the light of a long-overdue repayment of a diplomatic debt. The two that followed shortly afterwards amazed even the Saudis, who called them 'an unequivocal demonstration of interest in us'. Absolutely true. For the most part, Western dignitaries like to make only brief and infrequent visits to the kingdom of Saudi Arabia, where the temperature is always too hot and the smiles too cold.

At the Saudi Embassy in London's Mayfair, a Fleet Street veteran who now has the job of spokesman had been perfectly frank: `A visa? I can't remember the last time I signed one of these. I've got hundreds of requests sitting in a drawer. To be honest, I wouldn't get your hopes up.'

Many months later I managed to get an appointment at the Saudi Embassy in Rome, a nineteenth-century villa ruled over by a powerful prince of the royal family. In the guise of a rambling conversation about what I wanted to do in Saudi Arabia and why, I was subjected to a kind of `test of trustworthiness'. In charge of this was a young diplomat who was noticeably uncertain about what to do with me. He spent much of the time taking calls on his mobile phone from friends and relatives all over the world and then apologising. `That was my cousin so-and-so, calling from Toronto. Ah, that was my brother, from Abu Dhabi.'

We agreed on an itinerary starting in Jeddah, the financial capital of the country, then on to Jubail, an industrial complex in the desert consisting of a cluster of refineries and factories built by Filipino contract labour and considered a `model city' by the Saudis, and finally to Riyadh. Times were fixed, appointments booked. Saudi Arabia, the young attaché said with an ironic smile, was always anxious that the foreign press should receive all possible assistance.

I passed the trustworthiness test. I told no lies, but had to conceal part of the truth. My paper, I explained, wanted interviews with Italian contractors doing business in Saudi Arabia, and articles about the development of the economy from oil-dependency to industrial diversification. All true. But I also had a secret agenda, one that would not pass any test.

In Jeddah my real objective was to find a man of seventy-two, height 1.96 metres, weight 150 kilos, long absent from the international stage he once dominated. A giant who boasted of having been a reluctant cannibal, complaining that human flesh was too salty. A head of state who sent telegrams to Queen Elizabeth addressing her as `Liz' and inviting her to visit his country 'if she wanted to meet a real man'. Who announced the dispatch to Britain of a shipload of vegetables `to alleviate your severe economic recession'. A president who ordered the decapitation of his opponents to be transmitted live on television, specifying that `they must wear white to make it easy to see the blood'.

The man I had to find was Idi Amin Dada, the corporal who became Uganda's 'Big Daddy', the innocuous `gentle giant' - as the European press referred to him when he first came to power - who became a monster.

Nowadays the Africans - Sudanese, Ugandans, Somalis, Nigerians - are leaving Jeddah. The exodus started at the end of the Nineties, when the economic crisis brought about by the collapse of oil prices forced the Saudi government to cut subsidies and apply immigration laws. Many Africans were literally rounded up in the streets and deported.

After the Africans, it was the turn of the Pakistanis, Bengalis and Indians.

The Africans who remain in the old kasbah struggle to keep their shops open, selling bogus perfumes, pastel-coloured shoes, soap, mirrors. Modest wares aimed at fellow immigrants whose numbers dwindle by the day.

The Saudis shop elsewhere, in malls which even at midnight are still crowded. These are the only public places that women are allowed to frequent. Veiled from head to foot, they walk around for hours in large groups, clutching the hands of their obese children. Their faces are invisible. Two holes for the eyes, one for the nose. On their hands they wear long black gloves similar to those that European women used to wear to the opera early in the twentieth century.

Giggling and whispering among themselves, the Saudi women buy, buy, buy, because there is nothing else to do. If they are caught speaking to a man who is not a relative, the special police patrols responsible for enforcing respect for Islamic customs can beat them with bamboo canes.

Jeddah has a beautiful sea front. By day it is deserted. Families have their picnics at night, when the heat is more bearable. Arab music streams from car radios in the BMWs. Men sit cross-legged on the sand, smoking. Women and their children form separate groups. Boys kick a football around. Beach picnics help to maintain links with the nomadic traditions of grandparents who travelled the desert routes with their caravans.

Every evening, when Abdullah leaves me at my hotel after a day of meetings with bankers, businessmen and government functionaries, my search for Idi Amin begins. I take a taxi, ask to be driven to the kasbah and, passing en route the families intent on their sea-front picnics, begin to trawl through the African shops and stalls. The taxi driver is usually a sullen Saudi, with a ferocious grin revealing a mouthful of gold teeth, but one evening I happen to get an Indian. I ask him what his life is like in Saudi Arabia. He says, `Fine.' Then adds, as if by way of illustration, `There was a public execution today, in a square just near here. He was a foreigner, they say. Pakistani.'

In the kasbah I ask about Idi Amin. The name strikes a sympathetic chord with everyone, and they react as if talking about a relative who has made his fortune and moved to a trendier neighbourhood. `We used to see him often here in the town centre, either before or after prayers in the mosque. It's a while now since I've seen him. I've heard he shops at one of the fashionable supermarkets. I can give you directions how to get there,' offers a Sudanese from behind a counter piled with bottles of shampoo.

I go to the supermarket. The cashiers are all Filipinos. The Saudis like them because they look submissive and all claim to come from the predominantly Muslim island of Mindanao. It's half-past eleven at night and families jostle in front of the food displays as if they were in Old Bond Street.

`Amin? Yes, he used to come here,' says a Filipino girl. And now? She shrugs her shoulders. `He used to live in this part of town. Then, I suppose, he moved. He does his shopping somewhere else.'

The following day I have a stroke of luck. I encounter a young Somali. Having made me promise not to get him into trouble, he tells me, `Idi Amin used to be a boxer. He fought in the ring as a heavyweight before and after becoming president.' He's right. I remember reading about Amin's passion for boxing. In 1951, when he was a corporal in the army, he won the heavyweight title of Uganda and held it until 1960. Then he lost to an Italian stonemason called Serra, shorter than Amin but quicker on his feet. In 1971, by now elevated to the presidency after ousting Milton Obote with a military coup, his love of boxing resurfaced. Threatening to auto-select himself for the Ugandan Olympic team, he fought several of the contestants. All were soundly defeated.

`If you want to find him,' says the Somali reasonably, `go to the gyms. There they know him well.'

The next day at my hotel they inform me that the best gyms and health centres all belong to their competitors, hotels such as the Intercontinental, Meridien, Sofitel. It's four o'clock in the afternoon and an already exhausted Abdullah asks if he may go home. I decide that it's time to visit the gyms.

At the last - a terrace with a swimming pool and a view over the nondescript boulevards of Jeddah - an Egyptian masseur opens his appointment book for me, placing it on a lectern like the Bible in church, and points to the name of Amin against a booking dated three months previously. `That,' he says, `was the last time I saw him.'

In the course of the next few days I get to know every masseur in Jeddah. And I start to reconstruct Amin's life. They tell me that he arrives in a white Range Rover. During the early years of his exile he drove a light-blue Cadillac. Then he acquired a Chevrolet Caprice. He has always liked cars. In Kampala he owned a red Maserati, and one of his little pleasures was to act as starter at the yearly rally across the savannah, then jump into his own sports car and chase after the competitors, all of whom politely - not to say wisely - allowed themselves to be overtaken.

In Jeddah he leaves whichever car he happens to be using at the time in the hands of the valet of the hotel where he has decided to start his day. He usually lunches at the Meridien, then goes to the Sofitel for tea. Or vice versa. For a swim or a massage he likes the Intercontinental. And his evening ends with coffee with his family at the Al Waha, a small hotel not very popular with foreigners.

He lives in reception halls. Like someone in transit. Perhaps deluding himself with the possibility of resuming his own journey. Or maybe a hotel is the only place where he can find someone to talk to during the day. Since 1980 Idi has officially had nothing to do except spend the salary bestowed upon him by the Saudi government in the name of `Islamic solidarity'.

The Egyptian masseur and his colleague, the Intercontinental gym's resident trainer, remember Idi Amin's tips, and his laughter, with nostalgia. `Complete nonsense, all that talk about crimes and murders,' they say with the confidence of men who have seen the world and massaged plenty of famous loins. 'It's the Americans, spreading lies as usual. From what we've seen, Idi Amin is a real gentleman who wouldn't hurt a fly. A great guy. As long as you don't ask him about his time as president. He doesn't like questions about the past. But when he comes here with his children he laughs and jokes with everyone.' And, as proof positive of moral integrity, they add, `He swims to keep himself in shape, you know.'

Next day, as we enter the main hall of a bank dominated by portraits of the king and his heir, a gloomier-than-usual Abdullah asks, out of the blue, `Tell me, what do you do in the evenings?'

I reply that I sometimes go out to sample the sights of the city. `And,' I add, 'I go shopping.' This seems to satisfy him. However, he has some advice for me. `Tomorrow is Friday. I suggest you stay in your hotel room. Or you could ask if anything has been organised for foreigners.'

Something has. The receptionist who hands me my key announces, without waiting for any possible objection, `You're all going to the beach tomorrow.' `You' means the infidels, the foreigners. But what beach? Maybe it's the one stretch of desert where an acquaintance mentioned that bathing costumes are allowed, a beach reserved for non-Saudis. The coral reef, they say, is fantastic.

The following day an air-conditioned coach, transport for the infidels, draws up in front of my hotel. There is an entire Lufthansa crew on board, the women swathed in black veils from head to foot and wearing gloves. They laugh and tease each other in German. It's an enjoyable, even if enforced, day out. The fish in the sea are rainbow-coloured. A Lebanese family with the usual Filipino nanny plays Monopoly. The Germans keep themselves to themselves.

But I am impatient to resume the hunt. My time is running out. The next target is Hotel Al Waha. I look for the name in the guide handed out to foreigners, but it's not there. I ask at reception, but they don't know where it is. Eventually, after dark, a taxi driver locates it.

Continues...


Excerpted from Talk of the Devil by Riccardo Orizio Copyright © 2002 by Riccardo Orizio
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Preface 1
Idi Amin Dada 7
Jean-Bedel Bokassa 33
Wojciech Jaruzelski 59
Enver and Nexhmije Hoxha 89
Jean-Claude Duvalier 113
Mengistu Haile-Mariam 141
Slobadan Milosevic and Mira Markovic 163
Coda: Letter from Manual Antonio Noriega 199
Acknowledgments 200
Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(0)

4 Star

(0)

3 Star

(0)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously
Sort by: Showing all of 2 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 26, 2003

    Awsome

    Its a really good book...that keeps you laughing and making you think if the author is crazy for some of the stuff he does.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 31, 2003

    Great perspective from both sides of the fence

    Orizio puts this book in very good perspective, by letting you look through the eyes and mind of each of the 'monsters'. I would recommend this book to anyone who would like a better understanding of the mindset of these people at the time of their power.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
Sort by: Showing all of 2 Customer Reviews

If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
Why is this product inappropriate?
Comments (optional)