It would be a miracle if there was anyone left in South Africa who was surprised to find that Julius Malema has used his influence to enrich himself.
But it would be more miraculous if Malema is not responsible for the miseducation of a generation of young South Africans who believe that bling is the meaning of life; that conspicuous consumption, expensive clothes and champagne equals life.
Let's forget for a moment the political implications of Juju's ascendancy. What are he and others just like him doing to our sons and daughters' view of the world?
When they see him swanning around in designer labels, his chubbiness clad in Armani and Hugo Boss, what could they possibly think, apart from - Juju equals the good life?
It tells them that 12 years in an education system has no value because hard work, diligence and perseverance have no place in a consumer-driven world where German watches and cars must not be earned, but expected.
It tells them that the adherence to ideals and notions of freedom have been relegated to unread, dusty memoirs of comrades like Kader Asmal and Nelson Mandela.
Malema's unabashed glorification of the good life is terrifying for any parent, for he tells our nation's children that they, too, should strive for hand-outs and deals, exchanging the dust from the townships of Limpopo for the air-conditioned mansions of Sandton.
According to the work ethic of Julius Malema, they should inherit all of this without ever feeling the fear of failure, the sweat of labour, the pride of accomplishments well done.
But Malema, standing with his 28-year-old feet in Gucci loafers, is not alone in teaching our young people the lessons of a society without a moral compass.
Take the current mistress of airhead excellence, Khanyi Mbau. Those who wish to consign her to last year's tabloids ask to be labelled old-fashioned and un-hip.
Surely, the clever media pundits say, I should recognise the instinctive, almost animal-like smarts in the girl who whips her body around like an ill-bred pony for nearby photographers and spends money that could have kept a squatter camp crèche in food for a month, at the hairdresser, having a Brazilian peasant's hair sewn onto her own.
Surely, we are told, we are moral mother-grundies who cannot appreciate the clever tricks of a girl who is a third-rate version of a media slut?
We've all been young; we know what it feels like to have the invincibility of youth on our side.
But to grow up as a 20-year-old in Diepsloot where there is no work; where life is short because of violence and HIV-Aids, and then to have as one's only role model the Malemas and Mbaus of the world - that is risky.
That says: Why can't we take what we want? Why can't we just live for today, forget about condoms, forget about the old people; forget about work, studying, bettering ourselves? Forget all of that old stuff, just give me, give me, give me...
Why? Because all we see is Juju and Khanyi. We see JZ anointing Juju, we see Archbishop Desmond Tutu and others derided by Juju.
What's the rational young adult to make of this? Can you blame them in a context of parentless households; drunk, dead or unemployed fathers; mothers getting up at 4am to begin a journey from home that will end with making (white) people's beds?
Once, our society applauded men and women who took responsibility for their lives. Like the men from the Transkei who left families behind for the mines of Gauteng, who worked themselves to early deaths. Those men were role models! But no longer. For what would happen to Juju's fine outfits if he spent a day in a mine or Mbau's nails if she washed the dishes?
Our chickens are coming home to roost. This is what happens when adults and elders and role models are not there, because they've died of mine-contracted TB or Aids or because they've been cowed into shutting up.
Whatever the reason, this is what happens in a society where the Jujus and Mbaus become the lodestar of our young people.
