The House Rock Built is Way Behind

The House really wants to deliver its snarky blogpoll ballot before the acutall poll comes out tomorrow afternoon, but a vast shortage of time has rendered that impossible. My ballot has been submitted and is, if I might brag a bit, pretty whacked out. My full explanation will come like Wednesday-evening-ish. Sneak preview: for the second poll in a row, the subtitle of the post will be a line from a country music song. Has the House Rock Bult gone mad? Very possibly, yes.

Ultimately, it came down to getting you this writeup tonight or finishing up the newest Dink & Dunk. Unfortunately, inspiration struck tonight, and I had to throw myself at this week's strip. I'll catch up with you Wednesday evening.

Slants and Drops

Ahoy, kids. The House has been riding the rails this last week, sidetracked by his 9-5 job: professional hobo. Needless to say, some time jumping on boxcars and eating tins of beans with his one-eared dog has helped alleviate the sting of last week's old-fashioned beatdown. It's sunny outside, the birds are chirping, and we still have 12 weeks of football to enjoy, so let's not get too pouty and move on down the line.

• Obligatory post-game commentary. Obviously, it was a disaster. Not quite "Hiroshima" or "Titanic"... more like "Edmund Fitzgerald" or the Sloop John B. At any rate, it was tiny boat vs. furious ocean, my fist vs. brick wall, Triangle Man vs. Particle Man, or any other historical one-sided fight you can think of. I'm pretty sure the Irish wouldn't have scored a touchdown if the game was 30 quarters long, which it mercifully wasn't.
  
  
  I feel so broke up, I wanna go home.
  
  Hey, them's the breaks though. A brand new offense lining up against a Tech defense that eats n00bs for breakfast, it wasn't too hard to make sense of what happened, particularly with Tech's propensity to come out of the gate and humiliate green offenses (they've done it four openers in a row). I think they've got a good squad, and I think that (future all-Hairmerican) Phillip Wheeler is damn lucky that they don't test players in the NCAA for being 3,000 year old mutant robots forged in the smithy of hell. I think the NFLPA screens for that, so you're probably looking at the peak of his career now.
  
  To use a baseball analogy, sometimes your ace gets kicked around for 10 runs in the first inning. That's how it goes. You yank him, put in the mop-up guy, take the loss, and get ready for the next ballgame. Yeah, the gameplan sucked, yeah, the quarterback decision sucked, and yeah, there were blunders and errors in execution all over the place. The good news is that it only counts for one loss. Bring in Jimmy Clausen, let the youngster take his licks, and look for something to be happy about every week. Wash down with a quart of Wild Turkey and call me in the morning. The doctor is in.



• Dink and Dunk Have Turned Pro. What started out as a goofy quarterly comic strip has turned big time, as the fellas have made their way over to The Fanhouse. A bigger audience, a weekly strip, and (of course) some cold hard cash for your boy. Keep your eyes peeled. Hope it doesn't go to their heads.
  
  



• The House is Watching Some Pistol on Saturday. That's right, we're taking this hobo show on the road and riding the rails to Evanston, IL to check out Northwestern and Nevada in an epic grudgematch of kind of purple teams. Between the Nevada Pistol, the... um, brainy Northwestern co-eds with great personalities, and the fresh lake air, it should be a good way to start off week two.

That's all I've got for now. Catch you on the flipside.

The New Banner is Up!

Well, with the changing times and graduating players, I've decided to revamp the old banner. The theme is "Fightinamish and Friends" and the banner is styled in the manner of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club. It's kind of a tribute to all the personalities who have made these last two years so successful and hilarious.

Essentially, the banner is serving as the House Rock Built's hall of fame. Henceforth, then, if somebody does something awesome or notorious, they can earn their way into the pantheon of the banner. You'll notice that three recently-graduated players made it to the hall, and the House is proud to induct Darius Walker, Brady Quinn, and Jeff Samardzija into the inagural wall of fame class. All three of them had achievements during the career that had a great impact on the team and this website, and are worthy inductees.

If you're an avid reader, you'll probably recognize most of these characters, but if you're a bit confused, here's a handy reader's guide:

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1. HR Pufnustuf. Pufnstuf gained immediate fame in college football when Mike Valenti demanded he be hired as Michigan State's defensive coordinator. There's a pretty good chance you've already heard Valenti's rant a thousand times, but you should fire it up one last time, for nostalgia's sake.

2. Darius Walker. Michigan, 2004. An unheralded freshman hops off the bench and singlehandedly propels the Irish to victory. He was small, he was slow, and at times I screamed terrible things about him, but he was the centerpiece to the Irish offense for three years and an invaluable asset. Shifty and tenacious, he fought for every yard, caught every pass that was thrown to him, and never ever fumbled the ball. An obvoius choice for the HRB's pantheon.

3. H. Mervin Longfellows. The notorious booster, he dreams of a simpler time when boosters lived by an unwritten code when they paid their players.

4. Papa John. Urban Meyer's identical twin.

5. Neil Diamond. It's a tradition at HRB to get naked and dance to Neil Diamond every time we get a new recruit.

6. Alec Baldwin. The single greatest living actor of all time. Period.

7. Jeff Samardzija

Crazy hair, crazy catches. Rotted on the bench for two years under Willingham and became a two-time All-American under Weis. I can't even count the number of times he blew my mind with electrifying catches, huge plays, and heroism.

8. All-Hairmerican Award. The highest honor bestowed by the House Rock Built. Each year, we compile the All-Hairmerican Team for the greatest hairdos in college football.

9. Anagramaticus. The wise prophet of college football. He rearranges letters to discover hidden truths.

10. Howard Schnellenberger. A badass mustache-sporter who earned the esteem of the House Rock Built for his voting tendencies. He occasionally submits pearls of wisdom to the House Rock Built. 11. Andy French. The patron saint of getting wrecked, calling football coaches, and screaming inappropriate things. The inspiration for the House Rock Built's Andy French Cup.

12. The Orgeron. The deranged, psychotic cajun from Ole Miss, he serves as a constant inspiration for House Rock Built insanity. He also writes his own blog called Every Day Should Be Lemsday.

13. Orvis P. Sexton. The House Rock Built's resident gonzo journalist. Wherever there's booze, recreational drugs, and a football game, you can expect to see him with his notepad and pen.

14. Wilford Brimley. The long-lost twin of Purdue coach Joe Tiller, he demands that you eat your damn oatmeal.

15. Dink. A tough-luck Notre Dame fan and co-star of the House Rock Built's official comic strip, Dink & Dunk.

16. Stanford Tree. The worst mascot in sports, and victim of a gangland shooting last year. Charlie Weis is still a person of interest.

17. Brady Quinn. Quinn took over a program in desperate shape and spent four years getting his bones crushed. He never backed down, he never complained, and at the end of his tenure, he had piloted Notre Dame into a new era of offensive prowess. He's the man.

18. Franz Kafka. A House Rock Built favorite. After Mike Kafka won the starting quarterback job at Northwestern, the jokes kind of wrote themselves. Also a lucrative merchandising target.

19. The Robot. Courtesy of Marco.

20. Dunk. The second half of the Dink & Dunk comedy team, a USC fan who is prone to getting ripped and discharging firearms indoors.

21. Touchdown Jesus. The icon of Notre Dame football. His influence is spreading.

22. Knute Rockne. The one and only, the guy this whole blog is named after and dedicated to. Loves his Akvavit.

23. Lou Holtz. The scrappy, diminutive coach with a lisp who made me fall in love with Notre Dame football.

24. Ara Parseghian. He stopped the rain. He won two national championships. Nuff said.

25. Frank Leahy. No Mt. Rushmore of Notre Dame football is complete without this man.

26. Rumple Minze. The liquor of the gods. The House Rock Built owns a super soaker full of this 100-proof peppermint schnapps that we spray fans with during our publicity events.

27. Sparks. Three words. Hooker Killing Fuel.

I'm Pretty Sure This is One of the Five Steps of Grieving

Everybody's pretty wrecked up about this whole Justin Trattou thing. We're in the five stages of grieving, and some people are whipping through them at a more accelerated rate than the others. Dink, for example, has bypassed the Denial and Bargaining and gone straight to Anger. Good on him.

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Dink & Dunk: Game of the Century (Stifle Your Laughter) Edition

Wink Dinkins and Buck Dunkowitz couldn't do their normal Wednesday featurette because they were in prison. But thanks to the House's chief consiglieri and illegal searches being inadmissible, they're back in action. This week they take on last night's West Virginia-Louisville game.

• What's going on? There's no football game on ESPN tonight, it's just the "Eleven Man Hundred-Yard Dash Presented by Papa John's ®". Seriously, is tackling illegal in the Big East?
  
  

  Speaking of Papa John's, do you think Urban Meyer has season tickets to Louisville games? After all, his identical twin brother owns the naming rights to the stadium:
  
  




• God gave us eyes because he loves us and wants us to be able to see Erin Andrews. He is a good God.
  
  
  
  

  Testify, my brother.

  
  
  
• Am I on drugs or did they just promo the Boston College - Wake Forest game as "a crucial game in determining the ACC championship"? On a night where a Thursday night Big East game is a pivotal game in the BCS title picture? I need to sit down and take a Valium, the room is spinning.

  I'm beginning to really appreciate the irony that since Miami, V Tech, and BC went to the ACC, the Big East has turned into an automatic BCS Championship berth and the ACC is struggling to place a team in the top 20. It's delicious.

  
  
  
• Down 17 points with 6 minutes left? No need to panic, Mountaineers fans. Kevin Pitsnoggle is going to get unchained and win the game at the buzzer. I've seen this one too many times.
  
  
  
  

  Clearly, this isn't a Big East basketball game. One team almost has fifty points!

  
  
  
• Thank you, Mark May, for chipping in your brilliant analysis: "Louisville impressed tonight both on offense and defense". What, might I ask, would you consider to be unimpressive if you're impressed by giving up 575 yards and 34 points?
  
  

  It may not sound impressive, but think of it this way. Louisville's D held one of the best offenses in the country to only 121 yards over their season average. That's just a little over 1.2 football fields more offense then they put up against the likes of Eastern Washington, Marshall, and Syracuse. Kudos!

  
  
  
  France, 1940. Another phenomenal defensive effort.
  
  

And... it's over. An epic matchup of two teams who will both be ranked higher than Notre Dame come next week. Thanks for chiming in, fellas.
-amish

Dink & Dunk: Heart Attack Saturday Edition

Everyone has a catchy nickname for a week of college football. Wink Dinkins & Buck Dunkowitz have officially dubbed it "Crap Your Pants in Terror Week". That's a trademark, bitches.

• Lost in the pandemonium of the last-minute heroics by Jeff Samardzija and the Irish offense is the fact that UCLA has a freaking juggler in their marching band. How dare you tempt the football gods that way? You got what you deserved.
  
  
  
  

  Sadly, their hackey-sack and "devil sticks" performers were physically unable to make the trek to South Bend due to a really, really, really harsh trip, dude.

  
  
  
• In the Texas-Nebraska tilt, Mack Brown totally tried to rip off Houston Nutt by running the exact same "fumblerooski to the midget" play that Nutt ran to perfection against Auburn a few weeks ago. This time, a very aware linebacker spotted the tiny guy crouched behind the line of scrimmage and smashed him into a flapjack. Better luck next time.
  
  

  He did pull out the stops with the timeless "lucky as hell fumble while the other team is icing the game". Actually, he stole that from Lloyd Carr, who called that play for Anthony Thomas against Northwestern in 2000

  
  
  
• Two ridiculously awesome things happened in the Washington-Cal game. First, Washington completed an incredibly ridiculous hail mary pass at the end of the game to force overtime. Second, Marshawn Lynch went crazy and drove an injury cart around the field, trying as hard as possible to kill as many people as possible.
  
  
  
  

  Third, massive schaudenfreude for Notre Dame fans. Oh, right, that's uncouth. Don't worry, Husky fans, once Willingham "gets his players", the wins will start rolling in. (stifles laughter)




• I wrote a lot of letters while watching the Clemson-GT game in an Irish pub in South Bend.
  
  
  • Dear CJ Spiller,
    You remain very fast.
  
  
  
  • Dear Reggie Ball,
    I wish I was good enough with words to craft a sonnet that wholly captures how much you freaking suck. And, look, you just fell on your ass and took a sack without being touched. Sweet muse!
  
  
  
  • Dear James Davis,
    You, as well, are quite fast.
  
  
  

Another good week, boys. Keep making me proud
-fightinamish

Dink & Dunk: Keep it Real Edition

Dink & Dunk served a one week suspension for knifing some nuns and orphans on the subway. Fortunately, they write a weekly column, so they're back in action for their regularly-scheduled feature.

• You know something good is going to happen when they cut away in the middle of a game for Miami-FIU highlights. I knew before the clip even started rolling that there was going to be a hideous brawl. Way to keep it real, Da U.
  
  
  
  

  So many classic moves. The "kick the prone guy on the ground in the face". The "swing your helmet at people". The "liquored-up felon broadcaster jumps into the onfield melee". Nearly beyond parody. Well, nearly.
  
  Oh, and if Lamar Thomas is looking for new employment, he can always clean our pool while we get drunk and shoot him in the ass with a BB gun repeatedly. That's what you get when you try to bring your big-time shit into our house. Represent.

  
  
  
• Dirk Koetter is a dead man. In case you didn't catch the last few minutes of the Arizona-USC debacle, he punted the ball away with one minute left while down one score rather than risk a fourth down and long attempt. A speechless Pete Carroll watched as his team kneeled the ball to seal the victory.
  
  

  That was literally, literally, literally, literally, literally the worst coaching decision I have ever seen in all of my years of watching football. But hey, good news, according to Koetter, "If I had it to do over, I would have gone for it." Trust me, you will never, ever have to do it over again, unless some junior varsity middle school team makes the blunderous error of hiring you to call plays.

  
  
  
  You guys wouldn't be calling me an idiot today if a bald eagle had swooped down and knocked the ball out of Booty's hands as he was kneeling it and returned it for a touchdown, would you?



• Northwestern quarterback Mike Kafka has apparently lost his starting job. This is sad, because we love him ever so much.
  
  

  It looks like we've found out why. While universitites are usually very tight-lipped about the nature of injuries due to privacy laws, Northwestern's injury report this week was surprisingly candid.

  
  
  
  And so early into a promising career...
  
  
• Reason #3849734239 not to live in Buffalo. The Miami(OH) - Buffalo game was postponed due to a snowstorm. In October. We will never bitch and moan about South Bend weather ever again.
  
  

  I'm just excited because Buffalo's answer to Jenn Sterger just became my friend on Facebook. She's quite the dish.

  
  
  
  Quite a set of jugs... of compressed oxygen, that is.



• As we watched the Sunday Night NFL game, all we could think about was how much of a travesty it would be for Brady Quinn to get drafted by the Raiders. They are the Temple Owls of professional football.

  
  
  We were playing a drinking game with the following rules:
  
  

  • Oakland player or coach grimaces after false start penalty: One Drink.
  • Oakland player or coach slaps self on forehead after idiotic play: Two Drinks.
  • Oakland player or coach throws a piece of sporting equipment in abject disgust: Shot of Captain Morgan

  
  
  Suffice to say, we were asleep the entire second half.

  
  
  
  Die, liver, die!

Dink & Dunk: Draw it up in the Dirt Edition

Wink Dinkins and Buck Dunkowitz invented the "Fumblerooski to the Midget" play back in '87. And Houston Nutt gets all the credit. Dammit.

• When I die, should I be fortunate enough to go to heaven, my personal paradise will contain and enless supply of clear liquor, midgets, and trick football plays. We hit the trifecta this weekend. A little slice of heaven on earth:
  
  
  
  
• Speaking of trickeration, Urban Meyer pulled this lovely doo-dad straight out of my seventh grade regional championship game, pulling the thankfully-rare "jump pass" out for Tim Tebow's first career touchdown toss. It's probably abou the sissiest thing I've seen in my years of watching football, but I probably wouldn't say that to Tebow's face.
  
  
  
  

  Vern Lundquist apparently thinks that Urban learned that from Lou Holtz. While I don't doubt for a minute that Urban learned how to love a woman, scold a child, and (according to Orson at least) ignore suspensions before critical games, this seems like a bit of a stretch. It seems much more likely he learned it from Joe Tiller and his magical "Basketball on Turf" concept.

  
  
  
• Tyrone Willingham came within a hair's breadth of knocking off Southern Cal this week, but the clock ran out while Willingham was still trying to decide which play to call. Husky fans, welcome to your life for the next two to four years.

  Hey, at least he was fully prepared for their PAT playcall:
  
  

  
  
  
• For any of you who watched the Cal-Oregon game, my apologies, because you are now colorblind. In a perfect storm of the earth's most hideous jerseys, Cal rode their "putrid piss" shaded uniforms to an impressive victory.

  Color schemes like that angry up the blood. Just ask Dante Rosario who got so frustrated he ninja-kicked a Cal player in the back. The referees threw a flag, but waved off the call.

  
  
  
  Killin' ain't fair, but somebody's gotta do it.
  
  
• And finally, an open letter to DeShaun Jackson, Darrin McFadden, and C.J. Spiller:

  Dear Resident,
  
  You run very, very, very fast. Scary fast.
  
  Sincerely,
  Dink & Dunk

Dink & Dunk: Cheese Sandwich Edition

Wink Dinkins and Buck Dunkowitz have been taking turns slapping each other in the face since Saturday.

• Well, it's Tuesday night. You know what that means? Time for some Southern Miss football!

  I think the SMQ needs to change his moniker to the Wednesday Morning Quarterback. Additionally, Tuesday Night football in Tulsa doesn't really draw much of a crowd. You'd think with the national television and all they'd be able to sell more than a third of their seats.




• Seeing Michigan State's rapid and agonizing spiral down the toilet reminds me it's time for my annual dental checkup. Seriously, you can set your watch to it.

  Big time respect for John L. Smith this year, for exceeding even my own wild expectations for the grandiosity of MSU's annual meltdown. I never thought I'd be surprised by the magnitude a Spartan September Flameout, but I guess I just haven't been watching college football long enough.
  
  In fact, I'm booking the party next year for Michigan State's meltdown. And guess what? You're all invited!




• Our astute commentator samari had this recap of the TCU-BYU midweek grudgematch: "BYU totally made a sandwich with TCU's cheese and TCU didn't even complain." Thanks for stopping by, Horny Toads, but it looks like it's about midnight for the non-BCS conference Cinderellas.

  The only hope left for the mid-majors are Boise State, Louisville, West Virginia, and Rutgers.




• God bless the coaches and their infinite polling wisdom. After sitting down and watching four quarters of Georgia Tech mopping the floor with Virginia Tech, they decided, in their wisdom, that GT is just a tiny bit worse than Virginia Tech, ranking them two spots below the Hokies.

  I also voted Calvin Johnson two spots below the entire Virginia Tech secondary on my Heisman ballot.

Number 11 rules! Calvin Johnson? Ehh... not so good.

• How much do Texas A&M fans love their team? Um, apparently this much:
  
  
  
  

  I once squeezed my undercarriage for 30 seconds for tickets to a Rush concert. And Rush rocks about a thousand times harder than Dennis Franchione.

Catch you next week, losers! We're going to play against Sam Houston State on NCAA 07 for XBox. Why? Because we're classless cowards.

Dink & Dunk: Oops, I Crapped My Pants Edition

Wink Dinkins and Buck Dunkowitz have been in the bathroom for the last two days. They apologize for the delay.

• Now that we've confirmed he survived the ordeal, I think it's okay to make fun of Joe Paterno and his loose bowels during Saturday's contest, which forced him off the field and into a fresh pair of pants for the second half of the game.

  When asked if he has trouble with his regularity, Paterno commented, "My body works like clockwork. Every morning at 7, I urinate, and at 8:30 I have a healthy bowel movement. The problem is, I don't get up until 10."

  
  
  
  Caught wearing a low-flow garmet on a high-flow day. We've all been there



• This week, there's going to be a lot of ball-busting about the Irish's upcoming opponent Purdue. The big stupid drum, the mustaches, and their craptastic fans. But allow to put a sober, well-reasoned argument about how bad Purdue is. There are no Purdue bloggers. Zero. Go ahead, do a Google Search. Blogging interest is so low that AOL can't even pay somebody to be a Purdue blogger at the Fanhouse.

  Even Colorado, tailspin and all, has more vigilant representation in the blogsphere.




• I guess Georgia has a quarterback controversy. Wait, not controversy. What's the word you use when you're forced to choose between a handfull of individuals who are equally incompotent?

  • A presidential election? (zing!)
  • The Big East Championship? (double zing!)
  • The Miami - Florida State game? (ba-zing!)
  • Shit, I'm out of material.

• Here's a game I'd like to see: combine Central Michigan, Eastern Michigan, and Western Michigan and have them play against the combined forces of North Texas, Rice, and Sam Houston State (yes, that's Texas' September schedule) in a battle-royale to determine which state has the worst Division 1 football in the world.

  The traveling trophy can be the "Gilded Cupcake".

  
  
  
  Now that's some bling.
  
  
• Ole Miss should be renamed to the "Gateway to the bottom of the Top 25". Both Rutgers and Missouri have made it to the Top 25 on the virtue of a "big win over a BCS conference school" as both of them handled The Orgeron at home.

  Getting national acclaim for beating up on the Rebels is kind of like getting a college scholarship for beating my six year-old niece in Candyland.




• Troy and Rice win the "Have Bodybag, Will Travel" award for fearlessly taking on a full-slate of non-conference drubbings from top 25 teams.

  A big thanks goes to Florida State, who graciously sacrificed their time to take on both of these teams. They were even nice enough to let Troy lead for three and a half quarters. Such a philanthropist, that Bobby Bowden.

We All Deal With Losses in Our Own Special Way

It's a strange thing, being a college football fan. A win catapults you into an enchantingly euphoric psychosis unrivaled by the buzz from any drug you can eat, drink, smoke, or inject. On the other side of the coin, losses torpedo you into depths of depravity and depression that are positively frightening and unpredictable. But win or lose, we always learn something about ourselves at the end of the game. You make it through those first 24 hours, and then you strap your codpiece back on and go back on the canvas.

Suffice to say, some losses hurt more than others, and a sober analysis on the day after brings you face to face with the demons that torment and, simultaneously, drive the engine of your fanhood. Sometimes, it ain't all that pretty.

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