John Daly is going to play in the Masters at Huntingdale next week. So to celebrate, I’ve written a couple of Haiku poems. As you do.

John Daly, plays golf
He ate all the pies. Greedy
Smoked, drank, fell over

OR

Daly plays golf, eats
Journos call him ‘big hitter’
It’s just code for ‘fat’

Vote for your favourite below. Or add your own John Daly Haiku in the comments section.

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Here are five things that I have learnt in the past 24 hours.

1) People in Moe can be a bit crook in the head. Yesterday I met a guy there who owned a dingo called ‘Azaria’ - as in Azaria Chamberlain. Wrong. But dare I say it, also funny.

2) You couldn’t invent Tony Mokbel. The underworld crime figure escaped Australia on a yacht that was first shipped across the Nullabor in plain sight. Today it emerged that Fat Tony had a cunning plan to avoid interrogation if he was caught by the cops - pretend to be a deaf mute. Apparently he got the idea from Helen Keller, another prominent organised crime figure. You’re dumb Tony, but not in any useful way.

3) Madonna should stop wearing leotards. Pleeeeaaase Madonna, stop wearing them!

4) Japan went into recession. And also “announced recently that it was researching plans to build a space elevator – a link to space that could transport cargo and even tourists – for as little as 1 trillion yen ($11 billion)”. Anyway Japan, I’ve got some thoughts on where you might be able to cut some corners, maybe tighten the belt a bit.

5) There is never, ever a time when Arnold Schwarzenegger does not sound completely awesome. Never. As the Governor of California, he should be mired in mundane legislative matters. But as firestorms engulf the state, Schwarzenegger issued a statement regarding the prosecution of arsonists. But he ramps up the big Hollywood/Austrian accent and delivers these pearls:

“I want everyone to understand that we will hunt down the people responsible for that and we will arrest them and prosecute them to the full extent of the law…and believe me, we will not fail…If I were one of the people who started the fires, I would not sleep soundly right now - I’ve got to tell you - because we’re right behind you…”

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Graham Boat

It is a little-known fact that boats were invented by Graham Boat in 1706.

Born to his parents exactly a year before his first birthday, young Boat proved to be inquisitive about the ways of the sea from an early age. By his second birthday he was already experimenting with various vessels in his bathtub, and by the age of five it was clear that his destiny lay in the future.

As a teenager, Boat could always be found at the docks in his home of Liverpool. Vexed by the lack of purpose for said docks, he resolved to invent something that would put them to good use. Hence the idea of a ‘boat’ was born.

The English Government took a keen interest in the project, and after a few false starts Boat was able to provide them with an early prototype:

The first prototype designed by Graham Boat

The idea quickly gained traction, and before long boats of various shapes and sizes were to be found everywhere. Their popularity rapidly led to the discovery of America by Christopher Columbus in 1718 and the creation of a television show called ‘The Loveboat’ two years later.

Sadly Boat’s rapid rise to fame among the English aristocracy took a toll. His hedonistic lifestyle left him with no money, and to further compound matters only months later he found himself bankrupt. In later years he could be found on the streets of Liverpool in a leopard-print leotard yelling “I’m Catwoman!”

The legacy of Boat’s invention cannot be underestimated. Without him, the world would not have international shipping, would not have discovered islands and would still have smelly underarms (Boat also invented deodorant.)

Thank you Graham Boat, thank you.

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In 1977 a disc was placed in the Voyager spacecraft that aimed to capture the splendour, breadth and beauty of life on earth. The hope was - or is - that should extraterrestrial life ever discover this tiny vessel, they would have some insight into the planet that had sent it forward.

The disc contained “115 images and a variety of natural sounds, such as those made by surf, wind, and thunder, and animal sounds, including the songs of birds and whales.” To this they added musical selections from different cultures and eras, and spoken greetings in fifty-five languages.

The music included such luminaries as Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Blind Willie Johnson and Louis Armstrong.

Despite the slightly western bias, not a bad effort.

Now, 31 years later, another disc has been flung out into the universe. From the Ukraine. Not a nation known for space exploration, or particularly good taste in…err, anything. Should a nation responsible for providing this act for Eurovision be put in charge of intergalactic communications?

Problem number two: the submissions for the disc were collected in a competition run by social networking site Bebo. Now, I’m on Facebook, but the fact that I can write a status update about being stuck at an airport does not qualify me to compose intergalactic fan mail. Yet 500 submissions were accepted from Bebo users.

What do you think the submissions included?

• Instead of Beethoven, how about: “Can you add me?”
• Forget Louis Armstrong, how about: “Hi, I think we met at your sister’s birthday party - I’m her friend Bree - how’s it going?”
• Move aside whale sounds, try this on: “OMG, I was SOOOO wasted last night!!! If anyone has my mobile phone, please let me know!”
• Bye bye Swahili greeting, hello: “Ignore my last status update, my stupid EX-boyfriend was logged on as me.”

I wonder if any ads slipped through? “How to get awesome abs in 6 weeks!” or “How smart are you? Check your IQ NOW!”

Seth Shostak, SETI astronomer, said, “If anybody’s out there and they find that signal, they at least know it that… there must be a planet with some pretty clever things on it.”

Ya reckon? It could have been worse I suppose - they could have asked Myspace users. Or Monkeybizness.

Meanwhile North Korea has decided to send something different to our extraterrestrial neighbours: 10 missiles.

North Korean missiles. From Earth with love.

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A couple of stories caught my eye today, and I think they might provide some useful insights into Australian culture. Consider the following headline. The full story appeared in today’s Age newspaper.

This story is about a woman who crashed her car, then recorded a blood alcohol reading of .462. The legal limit is .05. Lesson one: Australian culture has changed. Once upon a time, this headline would have read ‘Victoria’s Best Drink-Driver Jailed’ - after all, she does hold the record for being pissed and driving.

At the very least, the story would have once read:

The driver was severely reprimanded by the judge for being caught while over the blood alcohol limit. In sentencing, Judge Judy said, “You should hang your head in shame. If you were being responsible you would have taken the back streets to avoid detection. Instead, you took the main road and swiftly undid all of your great work by getting caught.”

Next they’ll be telling us cigarettes are bad for you.

Let’s turn our attention to our neighbours in the west, in the region creatively named ‘Western Australia’. The school captain of Corpus Chrisi College in Perth has given an almighty spray during his speech at the school’s award night. It was caught on video:

Lesson two: a lot of people in Western Australia have not heard of Youtube. Those who have probably call it ‘The Youtube’.

Our man got up and laid the boot into the principal and vice-principal in fairly elegant fashion. I especially like the way he embraced the awkwardness (listen for the tumbleweeds and crickets), and ploughed on. It has more than a touch of Donnie Darko about it.

Lesson three: when American kids get disgruntled at school, they shoot everyone. When Australian kids get surly about school, they give terse public speeches that make everyone shift uncomfortably in their seats. Australian history is littered with examples that I am too lazy to go and find and link to right now. In any case, I reckon that it’s a much better result than someone going postal. I hope our man gets himself sorted out.

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 Did I mention that I was going to be in the Philippines this week? (As in the week just gone I mean…)

Anyway, that’s why there haven’t been any posts. Interestingly, the connectivity in the Philippines is brilliant. I’ve been in some fairly remote areas south of Manila, and at a minimum I’ve always been able to muster up phone reception. But I have also been working very hard, so the blog has been on hiatus.

Manila is like so many Asian cities – big, dusty, chaotic. The roads are choked with traffic, and my lungs are choked with pollution. Apparently the nation’s maxim is “There is nothing that can’t be improved by neon”. There are some truly horrendous lighting arrangements that only work because that’s just how Asia is.

I spent most of the week about 100 kilometres south of Manila in an area called Cavite. The drive could be described as ‘field, field, field, mall, field, mall, field, field’. But more on the national obsession with shopping later. Some of the rural countryside is just beautiful – verdant rice paddies and palm trees, with mountainous karsts providing a spectacular backdrop. Given that almost everyone speaks english, it’s a mystery to me why tourism here isn’t massive.

Every night there have been stunning tropical lightning storms in the distance. Most of the days have alternated between torrential rain and baking heat. The humidity has been oppressive.

So after a torrid week of work, I’m now back in Manila where I have spent yesterday and today ‘relaxing’, Filipino-style: shopping. When you find yourself in a Philippines mall with a man from Papua New Guinea, a woman from Indonesia, another one from Vietnam, and two girls from Mongolia, you know that your work lands you into some unusual situations.

The Mongolian girls shopped for 12 straight hours. They had to buy suitcases to hold everything they bought. The lady from Indonesia was displaying all the signs of being an addict. She dropped hundreds of dollars on stuff and didn’t think twice about it. I bought two books and a t-shirt. Total cost, about $25USD.

Shopping is a central part of life for middle- and upper-class Filipinos. In many malls (and there are a lot of them) you can actually find Catholic Churches. My Bible knowledge is a bit scratchy, but the story of the money lenders in the temple comes to mind. I’m not sure if I missed the point, but wasn’t it about not mixing religion and commerce? Anyway, after church you can go straight out into the mall and shop, or get involved in the next game of bingo. It’s a typical Sunday out. Bizarre.

Speaking of which, a girl from Nepal who I was working with decided that I looked like a guy called Hrithik Roshan, a Bollywood actor most famous for playing a superhero called Krrish (below). This bloke looks like someone who takes himself far too seriously. More than a touch of the Derek Zoolanders about him.

And just for the record, he looks nothing like me.

Righto, better go and catch a plane.

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I work for an NGO. Today I was asked what I had learned while working there. I said, “I’ve learned that fighting poverty is fraught with ethical dilemmas.”

What does that mean exactly? Where is the ethical dilemma in taking on poverty?

Well here is the problem. Many people view poverty solely as a problem of victims, without really looking to find perpetrators. The average punter sees poverty as something that invokes pity, sympathy, empathy, frustration, or helplessness.

But I think poverty is about power - who has it and who doesn’t. And if there is power involved, the next thing you need to think about is justice - or the lack of it.

Corruption, conflict, greed and apathy are the perpetrators of poverty, and the obstacles to poverty’s end. And they all stem from one thing: self interest. I think that more people need to stop feeling sorry and start getting angry. We need to start pointing the finger, because without justice and the protection of people’s human rights, dishing out rice at a food distribution isn’t going to fix anything.

So why the delay?

Have you noticed how not one NGO has come out and lashed Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe? The reason is that they are all petrified of being ejected from the country. Once upon a time I used to say, “Fine, let’s get kicked out! We can’t stay silent on what this guy is doing.” Then I found out that NGOs are feeding well over 10% of the population. It’s difficult to take a principled stand when you have to walk away from starving people.

What about Burma after the cyclone? Even after an uneasy truce was brokered between multilaterals (UN), NGOs and the military junta, they still had to work together. When is it okay to collaborate with military who have a long history of horrendous human rights abuses? How do you draw the line, especially when faced with people who are suffering immensely?

How about something a bit more personal, a bit closer to home. Indigenous Australians are dying more than 17 years earlier than white Australians. Despite all the interventions and publicity, many remote communities remain vastly under-resourced. Would you be willing to stand up and write to your local politician and say, “Forget the baby bonus or the first home owners grant - invest in Indigenous health programs.” It’s a bit more difficult when self-interest becomes a factor.

I’m not having a go at people who don’t - people the world over are the same, they just want to get ahead and look after their families. Altruism doesn’t come naturally, it’s something that has to be worked at. And it is a prerequisite to seeking justice.

NGOs tread a fine line between short-term relief and long-term advocacy. There is no formula. But I think this is why individual Australians are so important - they have the chance to ’speak the truth to power’ in uncompromising fashion. Seek out and get involved with Amnesty International or especially Human Rights Watch. The world’s poor don’t just need your money. They need you to seek justice. Consume media and tell others about it. And if you want to, practice altruism - a prerequisite to justice - and give your local MP permission to return power to someone who needs it more than you.

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Salman Rushdie is possibly the most decorated author alive. His 1981 “Midnight’s Children” has been voted the best book to have ever received the Booker Prize. His sweeping novels weave myriad stories together in epic fashion. His mastery of the english language is unparalleled. So when he was asked for his thoughts on Sarah Palin, he mustered all his intellectual might and offered this piece of literary genius:

“I think she’s a joke.“

It’s a worry when Matt Damon is offering a more articulate critique of the Republican Vice Presidential candidate. Way to use the thesaurus Salman.

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I went to Canberra yesterday. When I was at Melbourne Airport, I saw a bloke drink a coffee, then seconds later he drank beer. At 10:45am. At the time I thought he was bonkers, but he was probably just going to Canberra.

After I finished working, I went out on to the street to find a taxi. I’ll give you the tip, Canberra on a Sunday afternoon is no buzzing metropolis. I walked for six minutes in the heart of Canberra without seeing a single living creature or vehicle. I walked up the middle of a major road, and it was all I could do not to scream out “HELLO! IS THERE ANYONE HERE?” A couple of times I thought I saw something flit behind me, but that was probably just the Liberal Party’s shadow ministry.

If I ever make a post-apocalyptic zombie flick - and I intend to - It will definitely be set in Canberra. I’m going to get public servants to play zombies, they’re perfect for the role. They’ll lurch around Canberra doing horrifying things like trying to feed on human flesh or getting people to write ministerial briefs.

And the only way to defeat them will be to lead them into a roundabout, which their dull zombie minds can’t cope with. The hero (played by me of course) will take an exit while the public servant zombies run endless circles. It works on so many levels.

For some reason (I haven’t decided what yet, but probably a quarantine of Canberra), the only place to take refuge for the night will be Parliament house. My small group of weary survivors will be holed up, only to discover the grand-daddy Zombie and his crew are (shock) already in Parliament: Yep, Kevin Rudd and his cabinet. Zombie Kev speaks in a droning monotone and no-one is really sure what he is saying.

But as they lurch towards the cornered survivors, I notice someone is missing. Then, just as all hope is lost, the doors are kicked open. Standing silhouetted in the moonlight, only her flaming red hair gives away her identity - it’s Julia Gillard! Her gingerness makes her immune to becoming a zombie! (Gingerness is a more virulent virus than zombie-ism). She’s got a flame thrower she got from the Duntroon military college down the road, and a mountain bike from the AIS. She steps up to Zombie Kev and says, “Forget the global financial crisis - this is a meltdown!” and torches all the Cabinet zombies.

Kevin Rudd stars as Zombie Rudd in my new movie

Err, yeah, so as you can tell, I had a bit of time on my hands at the airport. But Canberra really is the perfect eerie abandoned location for making films. Apparently the National Gallery is quite good too.

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