Last Christmas, through a series of unlikely events, we got a Wii. The house rejoiced over a new gaming system.

Over the past year, we’ve played Mario Kart, Lego Indiana Jones and about a million games of bowling and tennis. We weren’t letting it collect dust by any means but I had no idea we could re-energize it with something new.

Today, I got the Fit game and board from my mom for Christmas. I’m having a blast with it. So the next time you come over, I am totally making you do the hula hoop. Be ready!

Thom, Erik and Tree have a problem: they have a couch they literally can’t get rid of. After their upstairs neighbor’s waterbed accident floods their Portland apartment and leaves them homeless, the three decide to take a trip. Thom’s an unemployed computer guy, Erik’s a low-rent grifter, and Tree is a commune refugee who doesn’t like to work, so there are no impediments to their trip, save the apartment building’s owner telling them to take their couch with them when they leave.

That’s when they discover that they can’t get rid of it. The Goodwill worker turns them away. So does the worker at another second-hand store. A cop just happens to drive by when they try to ditch the couch at a burrito store. And never mind that the couch gets heavier if you try to carry it in the wrong direction.

So goes “Couch,” Benjamin Parzybok’s debut novel. It’s a blend of magical realism and picaresque novel, as Thom, Erik and Tree carry the couch — or are carried by it — through encounters with a wide range of people. It’s a welcome change from the many contemporary fantasy novels about vampires and the people who love them. The novel builds slowly and inexorably to its conclusion, the fantastical elements piling on top of each other. Unfortunately, as the couch’s mystery was revealed, I became less and less interested in the story, and near the end “Couch” hit on a topic I feel strongly about and I was yanked out of the story.

Thom provides the novel’s center. He’s a rational guy, someone who’s far more comfortable with the logic of computer programs than with people. As things get more and more fantastical, though, he finds himself becoming a believer in the mystical. It’s handled deftly, and was the most interesting part of the novel for me.

One of the big ideas behind the novel, as Ben has said elsewhere, is more of a question: what knowledge have we lost as we’ve lost ancient cultures? It’s an old question, one which leads people to fantasize about the Egyptians using alien technology to build the pyramids. I’m not a big fan of this trope, and was a little disappointed to see it turn up in what had been until then a very original novel. One character has a several-page speech about this topic, ending with his declaration that he doesn’t see doctors any more after a curandero cures his cancer by laying on hands. His speech presents the big idea in a giant wodge, the message flashing as if on a Jumbotron.

“Couch” didn’t immediately lose me because of this character’s speech. It was one character’s theorizing, after all. But then the trope showed up again in the mouth of another minor character, and this time it had an added layer of science versus belief. Once science comes to town, the character says, witch doctors’ cures no longer work. “Once roads go in, the logic of science comes in, television will come in, a Western belief system, people will take painkillers and decongestants.” It’s not enough that we see the witch doctor heal. It’s not enough that the novel’s magical elements are part of the story’s world. All must be explained explicitly, and we must be told that the magic really works until science shows up.

I don’t like being hit over the head like that, but even if I was okay with a shout-don’t-show approach, this topic provokes a strong reaction in me. There are countless people who abandon medical science in favor of alternatives, and it doesn’t work out. But there’s a ready-made excuse! “If the one being healed believes in the treatment, then the healer will be far more successful,” the character says. The unspoken corollary, of course, is that, if it doesn’t work, it’s because you didn’t believe enough. You made the mistake of trusting in science and medicine. It’s us versus them, and by virtue of being a physicist, I’m in the “them” camp.

(I warned you this was one of my triggery topics.)

If you removed those two characters’ speeches, I’d have been fine. Goodness knows I balance rational thought with belief in my life, and the novel’s big idea comes through without those speeches. Absent those speeches, the story is strong and affecting. You may not be as sensitive to science-versus-belief as I am; if so, you’ll likely deal better with the speechifying. It’s just a shame I wasn’t.

Couch is published by Small Beer Press and is available from them or the usual online vendors. Ben, like all right-thinking people, also has a blog.

“We have to redefine who we [as trial lawyers] are: We are the most important people in America,” Spence said. “There is no other profession in America that fights for freedom, that fights for what America is about, that fights for justice for ordinary people.”

To make his point, Spence — founder of the Trial Lawyers College, which trains lawyers to be more effective in the courtroom — said to imagine that all of the doctors and healers somehow vanished.

“I want to ask you which would be more important: If all of the doctors in the country somehow disappeared or all the trial lawyers in America somehow disappeared?” he asked. “We can live without medical care, but we cannot live without justice.”

—Gerry Spense on trial lawyers

Mr. Spense,

It’s nice to see you defending trial lawyers. I like lawyers in general. Lawyers are how our civilization has decided to settle disputes between aggrieved parties, and I like it a hell of a lot better than dueling. If I’m going to be involved in a court case, I want a knowledgeable pit bull of a lawyer on my side, because pro se given our legal structure is for people who would also be willing to perform surgery on themselves based on skimming the CliffsNotes to Gray’s Anatomy.

But then you go and be a total tool about it, spouting the kind of ego-driven hyperbole that makes people dislike lawyers. No other profession fights for freedom? At all? And you said this one day after Veteran’s Day? Are you completely high?

And people would swap out lawyers — not justice, mind you, despite your rhetorical slight-of-hand — for doctors? Despite my dismissive view of pro se representation, if no one else had a lawyer either, I bet I could get by. That’s not the case with health care. The law is an artificial construct that we have developed, and we can change it if we need to. You can’t do the same with the human body.

Our society works because of the symbiotic relationships we have with each other. If our laws weren’t enforced by the police and other officers of the court, do you think anyone would listen to lawyers and their oh-so-important defense of freedoms? If truckers vanished and food transportation was crippled, would we ignore starvation to bask in the glow of trial lawyers? That’s why your ranking of trial lawyers over all other professions is short-sighted, divisive, and idiotic.

Spense, your work in Estate of Karen Silkwood v. Kerr-McGee was great, and your courtroom skills are legendary. I’m glad you’re proud of being a trial lawyer. But try paying attention to other people around you and what they do, and recognize that, even though you’re at the top of your profession, your profession isn’t at the top of every other one.

1. Liza’s shifted from brain-liquefying screeches to words, or at least word-like sounds. She still believes that volume and repetition are key to convincing arguments, much like the recent US Presidential election, so she will walk over to a bed she wants to be on, point at it, and repeat “Up peeese! Up peeese! Up peeese up peeese up peeese up peeese!” until we give in or tranq her.

2. We’ve moved Liza from a high chair to a booster chair. She’s excited by this, since she has a mountain-goat-like desire to be as high up as possible, and she can crawl up into her booster chair. This also puts her nearer the condiments, which she loves. Her personalized food pyramid would be half composed of condiments. If she could, she’d have meals of butter, ketchup, barbecue sauce, and sour cream. Then she’d smear those meals all over the table and her.

3. She’s reached the supernaturally cute stage of toddler development. She flirts, she makes cute sounds that approximate words, and she carries around a baby doll saying, “Beeebeee! Beeeebeeee!” and giving it hugs. Then she throws it to the floor and steps on it for good measure, undoubtedly mimicking what I’ve been doing in Grand Theft Auto. When she sees a fly or other flying insect, she points and says, “Beeee! Beeee!” Then she waves at it, saying, “Hiiiiiii! Beeeeee! Hiiiii!” She waves hi at anything that catches her attention. This time around I know how short this period will be, and I miss it already.

A while back I read a great tip on Parent Hacks. They suggested to let your kids fingerpaint in the bathtub and then just take a bath. You contain the mess and the kids. The kids get to have a great time, first painting and then a bonus bath. I decided that we’d try it today since they both have a cold and we haven’t left the house in a couple of days. Here’s the evidence:

Also, a few days back Stephen posted about Andrew’s concert and the prepared piano. Here’s the full set of photos I took of him working on the setup.

We’d been talking for a while that we needed to do some cleaning before Christmas. Specifically in Eli’s room so there’s actually room to bring in some new stuff.

So to show him how Mom and Dad can clean up their stuff too, Stephen started pulling books off of bookshelves and chunking them in a pile to go to the used bookstore. Some 60 books later, we have a bit of space on a few shelves around the house. And a whopping pile to trade for other books!

The office was also a bit of a mess. Stephen still had portal gun bits and pieces strewn around for Liza to impale herself on and I had a corner that just seemed to continually expand when I wasn’t actively beating it back. So we spent about 30 minutes last night and here are the results:

Today, I’m going to try and convince Eli to part with a few things as well. If you hear the moaning, it’s Emo Eli trying to part with his toys.

I have moved beyond the bike portion of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, and have learned that the Los Santos police are awfully cavalier about any carjacking I might do. At first I was very careful about what cars I’d boost, and I’d try to take care of them. Now I realize that cars are disposable like kleenex.

I’ve also discovered the joys of off-track betting. Gambling on the ponies is dramatically simplified: you can bet on one of five horses. The horses’ odds of winning vary from 1 in 2 to about 1 in 12. If the horse wins, you win a matching amount of money: the 1-in-2 horse doubles your bet, while the 1-in-12 horse pays back 12 times your bet.

I say “odds of winning,” but I lie. As best I can tell, the game picks one of the five horses at random to win. So every single horse has the true odds of winning of 1 in 5.

I think you can see where I’m going here. With a little judicious save-and-restoring, and by betting only on the horse with the longest odds, I’ve quickly gone from having some $300 to $14M. Why, it’s like someone doubled all the payouts at a casino.

Hrm, two GTA posts in one weekend. At the rate I’m going here, pretty soon I’ll be doing what Carl does for his blog.

I’ve never played a sandbox game before, where you have a giant virtual environment that you can drive around mugging grandmothers and running red lights, so last night I started Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I wanted to experience its mix of non-linear gameplay and vehicular mayhem.

In the first hour of play, I’ve watched a lot of cut-scenes, interrupted by five-minute interludes where I ride a bike while following someone.

I’ve got six graphic design projects going right now and most of them are paid work. I’m working on making way too many Christmas and birthday presents.

It is possible that in October I got a little overly ambitious about Christmas. I’ve made it so I’ll be working every night on hand crafts from now until Christmas Eve. It’s fun. I enjoy it. And truthfully I think I’m more productive all the way around when my plate is full. The downside is that I’m so busy I don’t have any stories to tell and I can’t show photos of what I’m working on because everyone I am making presents for reads this blog.

That’s what I’ve been doing. What about you?

Ever seen inside a prepared piano? I hadn’t either. Here’s what it looks like when you’re doing the preparing:

There’s a table in Cage’s Sonatas and Interludes that lists what strings you’re supposed to shove stuff in and how far from the bridge the stuff goes. Insert a screwdriver, twist to spread the strings, and in goes the plastic or rubber or screws or bolts. Of course, Cage’s measurements were all for one specific piano, so you end up adjusting after you insert them.

And there’s what it looks like afterward.