JUJU Boy has riled so many people that even when he reflects soberly - albeit rarely - no one listens.
For example, pronouncing on the death of AWB troglodyte Eugène Terre'Blanche, Juju said it was a pity ET died before he could "repent" from chronic racism.
Look beyond the "kill the boer" rhetoric, the insolence, the solecisms and other countless own goals by the ANC Youth League chief honcho, his take on ET is quite profound and mature observation.
Just that I disagree.
In one of my adventures as a youthful reporter, I tackled ET not only in his lair that is Ventersdorp, but right inside the living room of his home.
At that time, in the 1990s, he was at the peak of his fame or infamy, depending on your political outlook. He filled large halls and brought roofs down when he bellowed into the microphone.
He was such a brilliant orator that after he spoke his followers left the hall and wanted to spill black blood regardless.
I sought an interview with him for months without success. The standard response from the lady who answered the phone, before she dropped it, was "ons praat nie met julle nie" (we don't talk to you).
One day they agreed, and I ended up in the Terre'Blanche home, seated across the table from South Africa's racist el supremo, and enjoying tea and cookies served by his wife.
I turned on my Afrikaans, an old reporters' trick in the circumstances, to sweeten the subject.
Then he turned on the charm.
No, he did not have a racist bone in him. All he wanted was "self-determination" for his people.
I asked why, being such a talented person, he wasted and misdirected his immense abilities to sway people on a lost political course such as a volkstaat, which was not a realistic option.
He gave me a look that said: "Ag shame, poor black boy ... you don't understand these things."
After a long moment, he asked me: "What is your name?"
Him: "Are you sure? Or is it a rumour that you heard? How sure are you that that is your name?"
Me: "Dood seker" (absolutely sure).
Him: "You see how certain you are of your name ... that is how certain I am about the volkstaat."
When I left he shook my hand briskly and gave me a cassette he had recorded of his own poetry.
I went to the office, wrote about my experience and shocked many with my conclusion: I did not think ET was a genuine racist.
He preached it alright, he modelled himself on a Nazi and chanted slogans his followers wanted to hear.
But on a personal level, I thought he was a meek mouse who was cast in a role he wanted to do well in. That role was a fearless fighter and champion of the "volk".
Now it seems he was not only a closet k***boetie, he also bonked 'em.
Racist ... I doubt. Great pretender ... yes.
Or he just fancied me.