Daybreakers: The only thing those that suck the life of others fear more than light is an outbreak of humanity.

The entire abortion debate is a matter of perspective. Considering all the political tea parties happening in the United States and the ensuing rhetoric over the past year, it is interesting to consider abortion in this regard:

If a woman's body is her own private property and the debate is over what a woman can do with her body, making abortion illegal or legal equates to the socialization of private property.

If a woman's body is not her own private property, human society has time traveled a few hundred years.

But some will say that this is not about women, but about human life. And that means that, given the debate, the life of an unborn fetus has the right to make the bodies of women violate by society.

Pro-choice still makes sense. Any other stance seems... socialist.

While I was out and about yesterday, I encountered a man who had been cut on his hand by a piece of a falling brick at a construction site. He was grey with shock, holding his hand and staring at the wound in the way that someone does when they hate the sight of blood but are drawn to a particularly gruesome sight.

Next door, a Puja had just been performed and there were plenty of people wandering around. Seeing the man there, I walked across to take a look at the wound. It seems like a lifetime ago, but I was a Hospital Corpsman at one time. And an EMT. And a bit more, but suffice to say that I have had some training.

The wound was deep. It was obvious that it needed sutures, but it was also obvious that more permanent damage was likely given the depth and the nature of the injury. Falling pieces of brick, from a height of about 16 feet, gain a respectable amount of speed. Peering into the angled wound, it looked like some nerves might have been damaged - and perhaps even some tendons. Generally speaking, I knew that this should be seen by a doctor, and said so. The fellow wandered off, mumbling something about changing his clothes, while I sent someone to find some methylated spirits. I had bandages and so forth in the pickup, so I got those.

In cleaning the wound - superficially - I saw just how bad it was. It was only a few centimeters across - a sharp V torn out of the back of the right hand, 2 centimeters above the knuckle of the index finger, going down to a depth of about half of a centimeter, it seemed. Having him turn away, I checked his sensitivity and range of motion and found that (1) He couldn't feel his finger, and (2) he couldn't move his finger properly. This is, generally speaking, not good. I told him he needed to go see a Doctor.