Times New Keeferton Keef shows no signs of lethality or psychosis



This is part five of a five-part series. For part one, click here.

Good morning, students. Welcome to your Mitching Independent Study, Hypothetical Mitchery.

If you've been following along all week, since Mitching 101, you will have noticed something. Halfway through the lecture on day two, Advanced Mitching, the quality of the Mitch underwent a sea change.

Prior to this shift, the Mitches had all been fairly simple, straightforward affairs: multiple declarations of identity, a few scattered details regarding soiling oneself, the first comment by the actual author, and that was it. After the shift, the Mitches became more ornate, longer; they went from simple paragraphs to narrative descriptions containing hundreds of words, and introducing many of the advanced techniques that we've covered this week.

What brought about this sea change?

Hypothetical Mitchery.

Hypothetical Mitchery is: the act of sharing concepts, ideas, and examples of fake Facebook posts about crapping your pants with a group of friends with no intention of actually posting them on anyone's Facebook wall.

In mid-October 2014, I took a trip to Kansas. This trip was with a number of friends: Peggy, Felipe, Fread, Barb... and, of course, Mitch. The purpose of the trip was to watch the University of Texas Longhorns compete against the Kansas State Wildcats in Manhattan, Kansas. We also got to hang out with friends and family and just generally party. Early on during that trip, I posted a pretty good Mitch, although it was still fairly basic. However, that Mitch caught fire among our group of friends. Soon, a group text formed, and in that group text, we began sending hypothetical Mitches back and forth:

As you can see from this exchange, it started out pretty basic. We were just trying to make each other laugh.

However, Felipe raised the stakes by making his next entry longer, and including more excruciating details:

Why, this was a stellar example of Hypothetical Mitchery. We all felt like we needed to ramp up to compete.

With a fair amount of success, if I do say so myself.

A lot of the fun here was that at any time, one's phone could ding, and one could discover a fresh entry.

You get the picture.

Here's another hypothetical Mitch, from Bill. This was a "backup" from last week, or in case repeated Mitchings became a possibility:

Hey guys. Keef here. You won't believe the day I'm having!

Sometimes I like to take bubble baths. Not, like, with Mr. Bubble. I'm way more into those fancy smelling bath balls from the Bath & Bodyworks. Especially the Lavender scented ones.

Anyway, I had a busy day out on the town and stopped during errands for a big 'ol bowl of chili at this little gas station I know. They have all sorts of wonderful things, but they always have a piping hot vat of Texas style chili and a crock pot of Queso that you can top it off with. If you're feeling especially adventurous (and I often am, because I am Keef, you guys) you can fill up one of those insulated BIG CHUG MUGS full of chili and then go about your day. So that's what I did.

I ate that BIG CHUG MUG full of chili on the drive home listening to some podcasts about Donald Trump's hair piece and noticed a spot of creeping indigestion. Such are life's penalties when you consume an entire BIG CHUG MUG full of Gas Station Chili.

I was sitting at a stop light when I felt the second pang of indigestion and tapped the steering wheel all the way home, where I proceeded to run myself a hot bath full of lavender bubbles. The bathroom smelled quite nice and I proceeded to make myself comfortable and unwind.

That's when the third pang of indigestion hit. I was daydreaming and it took me completely unawares. But it felt like somebody reached into my belly and grabbed my stomach like they were choking it. I sat up straight in the tub, but since it was full of hot water, slid and hit my head on the back of the bath tub.

That's when the fourth pang hit. Only that's when I learned it wasn't indigestion: welcome to Brown Town, population: me.

I was still coming to when I realized something was horribly wrong. There was a scent in the air that reminded me of something but what was it? OH GOD NO. THE BIG CHUG MUG FULL OF CHILI. Only now i'd painted the bath tub faucet and surrounding tile with it! The walls dripped brown and the bathroom smelled like BIG CHUG MUG and Lavender. I struggled to get to my feet, but slipped in the water right as explosion #2 left a hole of beans and meat in the bubbles.

By this point my doodoofeces were all over the bathroom and covering my body. There was doodoofeces in my hair. I even got a little in my mouth. I kept trying to get out of the bathtub, but kept slipping and sloshing it around more and my body kept expelling more and more and more of the BIG CHUG MUG FULL OF CHILI all around the bathroom!

I finally managed to break free from the tub, but once again slipped, this time on the floor, and cracked my head on the toilet. My body continued to expel the BIG CHUG MUG all over the bathroom. I wasn't even awake for most of it.

Anyway, my wife came home and while I'd like to tell you I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, I've actually been locked in the bathroom. Send help. Pleeeeeeease. This is Keef. You. Guys. Oh god.

It almost makes me sad to share this with you, as this would have been a marvelous addition to my Facebook wall. Luckily for you, I care about your education-- so there it is.

Now, the time has come to make an announcement. With this most recent back-and-forth of full-pance prankery, I firmly believe that I have reached my personal pinnacle-- my last fake Facebook post about Mitch crapping his pants was the zenith, the highest mountain; truly dizzying heights of doodoo descriptors. From this vantage, there is only one direction to go. In lieu of going in that direction, I am announcing my retirement. I'm leaving on top. Never again shall I grace anyone's Facebook page with a Mitch.

It's your turn. I encourage all of you to take your new skill sets, go out there, and Mitch some of your friends. Start out slow-- perhaps some Hypothetical Mitchery, to get a taste for it, and to discover your individual style. Then, go forth and shoulder-surf, and lay waste to your opponents' social media outlets.

This is totally Keef, you guys. Good day.

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This is part four of a five-part series. For part one, click here.

Good morning, students. Welcome to Mitching 104: Mitching Masters Seminar. We've learned the basic rules for quickly, effectively, and creatively crafting fake Facebook posts on behalf of others, indicating that they have soiled themselves. We've picked up a few Advanced tips and tricks. Just yesterday, we learned some Super-Advanced techniques.

This morning, we'll bring them all together, with two of the finest examples known to man.

A little over a week ago, my family flew up North to enjoy a Labor Day vacation. Remember, students, that the most recent salvo in the Mitch game had come from Mitch himself. I was itching to return the favor. Before I even boarded the plane, I had begun crafting a Mitch of the highest order. I had several hundred words before we even landed.

We landed, disembarked, and gathered. Early in the evening, my father-in-law brought out a ridiculous number of craft whiskeys. They live right on the Kentucky-Ohio border, and whiskeys are plentiful and amazing out there. Over the course of the evening, Mitchell and I each drank fourteen small-batch or craft whiskeys. Some were bourbons, some were ryes. The vast majority of them were delicious. I maintained a list, which I added to the Mitch-in-progress. The entire time, I was planning to get Mitch incredibly drunk, and then post my masterpiece.

Do any of you see the problem with my plan?

That's right, students: I also got very drunk. This led me to snatch the phone from Mitch's hands and run, giggling, into another room. Mitchell quickly disarmed me and I was unable to complete the Mitch. Later that night, I attempted to sneak into his room, where I discovered that his phone was held in a death-grip. When I attempted to extricate the phone, his eyes snapped open, he growled, and he pushed both his phone and his fist underneath his pillow (and therefore under his head) before he immediately fell back asleep.

My plans were dashed. Then I fell asleep, woke up a few hours later, and damaged my eye trying to remove my hardened, gluey contact lenses. (This is true. Because of the 7mm abrasion on my cornea, I have to wear eyeglasses for another week.) Anyway.

The following morning, I woke up to find that the impossible had happened.

I had been Mitched again. A double-Mitch.

This is truly an incredible example of The Mitch. This is a master at work. This is Mitch Mastery. That said, this is clearly the work of more than one master: I can see Bill's fingerprints all over this as well as Mitch's, and I'd be willing to bet that there were even more cooks working on this broth, turning it into a miasmic stew of delight.

To add even more to the quality of the Mitch, it bears all the hallmarks of perfect Mitchery. This was clearly crafted, at least in part, beforehand. However, it contains many perfect relevant timely details: the horrific airplane scenario, the truth that I was going to be spending a lot of time in a swimming pool. It even contains the first initial comment from Mitch, one minute after the post.

This is Super-Advanced Mitchery. It is perfect on all levels.

To add insult to injury, this was posted at 5:38 AM, only perhaps four hours after we had both sampled fourteen whiskeys. I had tried several times to get access to Mitch's phone, and had failed repeatedly. Yet, he had hoodwinked me, apparently on his first attempt.

Over the course of the trip, each night I would attempt to secret away Mitchell's phone. He was perpetually on guard, and slept like a cat. I failed again and again. I grew despondent; I often snuck off in secret to work on the Mitch, writing and discarding hundreds of words, knowing that my window was closing.

The final night, I had one last opportunity. I opened his door an inch at a time. I crept like a gecko across his floor on only my fingertips and the tips of my toes. I spent a half hour working his hand out from under the covers.

At last: success.

Please join us tomorrow for our final class, when we will explore Hypothetical Mitchery, and examine new directions.

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This is part three of a five-part series. For part one, click here.

Welcome to Mitching 103: Super-Advanced Mitching.

In today's class, we'll build upon the Basic Mitch techniques we learned, as well as the Advanced Mitching tips and tricks we learned yesterday. Additionally, we'll learn a few new techniques to take your Mitching to the next level.

Earlier this year, I had a child. It was wonderful. Shortly thereafter, Mitchell came to visit, so that he could spend time with his niece. I foresaw an opportunity, and so before he even arrived, I began crafting the next Mitch, using the "Notes" app on my iPhone. This was a fairly rough outline; I sculpted a few key phrases, peppered in some horrific imagery, and left myself plenty of room to incorporate real-life details. As the trip progressed, I would periodically go into my phone and edit and rewrite the Mitch, adding some things, and removing others.

At one point, Mitchell handed me his phone so I could read an article. Then he went to the bathroom.

I knew I had mere moments. I quickly texted the Note from my phone to Mitch. Then, I opened it, and pasted the Mitch-in-progress into Facebook, making a few minor adjustments; posted it; posted the first comment on my phone. When Mitch came out of the bathroom, I had the article back up and he was none the wiser... for a few minutes, anyway.

This was my masterpiece up until this point. The advanced technique of pre-writing allowed me to craft a much more fully realized Mitch. I could pre-fill the Mitch with all sorts of art that allowed for a better finished product:

KEY PHRASES: "jittery splurts of feces hurried their egress from my tender b-hole;" "my khaki shorts looked like leopardskin;" "rivulets of hot brown coursing down my calves." These are the exact sorts of details and images that are the most difficult to produce on the fly. For example, if I had been quickly two-finger typing as Mitch banged on the bedroom door while demanding the return of his phone, there is no way that I could have come up with that stuff. Having the freedom to create these beforehand put me ahead of the game.

DETAILS FROM LIFE: The phrase "I could feel her tiny body strain against me every time she shot out a jet of doodoo" comes directly from a text message sent to me by my wife. "Cramming ruined [clothing] into a Ziploc" is something that every new parent is deeply familiar with.

The lesson here: when you can, pre-craft as much of the Mitch as possible.

NOTE: Shortly thereafter, I found that I had been Mitched myself. Mitch, while I slept, mashed my unconscious thumb onto my iPhone; my thumbprint, unawares, unlocked the phone. From there, Mitchell was able to spring his revenge:

A wonderful example of the Mitch. Quick, concise, evocative. Follows most of the main rules: 1. I had eaten a Philly Cheesesteak. I do change a lot of diapers. 2. "Keef here." "This is DEFINITELY KEEF." 3. The Bristol Stool Chart graphic is an inspired addition, as we had been discussing it earlier that week. It could have come earlier on the comment timeline, but its inclusion is beautiful.

I began crafting my response immediately.

Join us tomorrow, for Mitching 104: Mitching Masters Seminar.

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This is part two of a five-part series. For part one, click here.

Hello, class. Welcome to Mitching 102: Advanced Mitching.

In this class, we'll build on yesterday's lessons, providing some new twists and turns.

Here's another early example of Basic Mitching, from when we gathered in Kansas City:

NB: For some reason, his phone autocorrected "Mitchell" to "MITCHELL." I thought it was funny, so I left it like that.

Some eagle-eyed students may have noticed a theme beginning to present itself during yesterday's lesson, and now I would like to bring that additional step to the forefront.

Immediately after posting as your opponent, "like" and leave a comment on the post itself. I prefer to leave a comment expressing disgust and dismay, both at the act of soiling oneself and at the "choice" to describe the act in detail in a public forum. This serves three purposes: One, as a sort of "tag" to claim credit for your work. If your comment falls within a minute or two of the post itself, it acts as a blame-taker, alerting future comment viewers that you have performed this devilish stunt; Two, it adds a level of humor, as you can ramp up the chuckles by compounding the situation; and Three, it propagates the post. Any additional "likes" and comments push the post up in Facebook's algorithm, ensuring that your masterpiece will be seen by more people.

At the end of 2014, Mitch came down to Texas and we all attended Fun Fun Fun Fest. It was a fantastic time. As he was packing up to go, and loading stuff out to the car, I offered to create a driving playlist on his Spotify.

I did so, and the playlist is awesome, because I am awesome and Mitch is awesome and the taste that we share is awesome.

But as I crafted that playlist, I also crafted something else:

A true masterwork, if I do say so myself.

This brings us to another facet of Advanced Mitching: drawing from life. Mitch did, in fact, eat all of those things while he was here; thus, the described outcome is not outside the realm of possibility. Additionally, Mitch himself had posted on Facebook about some of those very meals, providing an added level of realism to the supposed pants-shitting. (NOTE, however, the repeated declarations of identity: "Mitch here;" "This is Mitch;" "This is Mitchell telling you about it." This is in keeping with the first rule, that any posts should be clearly and apparently not by the actual Facebook account owner.)

This brings Mitching 102 to a close. Join us tomorrow for MITCHING 103: SUPER ADVANCED MITCHING.

In keeping with the general chronological timeline, however, I present the following:

At this point, I was just waiting for Mitch to return the favor. I knew it would happen at some point, so I'd be peeping around corners whenever he was nearby, and changing my iPhone password all the time. Last year, when we were in KC, Bill tried to do it on his behalf-- he was checking in on the cats, and got on my desktop to see if I was still logged into Facebook. He had this work of beauty prepared:

UH OH! I MADE AN ACCIDENT! Keef here. One minute I was sitting in thoughtful reflection and the next IT. FELT. LIKE. SOMETHING. WAS. ALIVE. INSIDE. ME. WELCOME TO BROWN TOWN! I am pouring buckets of chili cheese out the ample legs of my Manpris like so much Ebola. I'M SWIMMING IN IT! IT'S FILLED UP MY SHOES AND SOAKED MY SOCKS! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MONTRESOR! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! THE HORROR! THE HORROR! This is totally Keef, by the way. Totally KEEF!

Luckily, I wasn't logged into Facebook. Preserved by my paranoia once again!

That said, note Bill's skill in crafting this fine Mitch. I do occasionally wear Manpris, providing realism to the scenario; there are repeated declarations of identity ("Keef here;" "This is totally Keef, by the way;" "Totally KEEF!"). Plus, it's pretty goddamn funny.

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This is part one of a five-part series. For part two, click here.

Welcome to Mitching 101, students. Today, we will learn how to play a fun game.

The game is called "Mitching," because that is my brother's name; he is the co-creator of this game, and it is with him that this game was created and has traditionally been played.

Here are the most basic steps of the game:

1. Shoulder-surf your opponent's phone password.

2. When your opponent's phone is unattended, pick it up and unlock it.

3. Open Facebook, and announce to the world (as your opponent, with too-frequent assurances that the poster is, in fact, the owner of the Facebook account) that your opponent has soiled himself.

That's it. It's a simple three-step process, with plenty of wiggle room for additions, gambits, and flourishes.

I have done this to my opponent, for whom the game is named, a dozen times or so. On some occasions, he has gotten mad and deleted them immediately. On others, he hasn't noticed, and by the time he has, there are enough "likes" and comments that he has decided to leave it. More infrequently, I have been so proud of my literary prowess that I have begged him to leave them up.

Here is the first one:

Definitely an early effort, what one might call "primitive Mitching." As the very first foray into the art form, it is only the most basic of Mitches. It lacks details, any poetic flair, or any real narrative. It was the first one, so I just tried to hammer out something embarrassing, while trying to make it absolutely clear that it wasn't actually Mitchell posting the status update.

This is a very important portion of proper Mitching. Your goal here is for a person who knows your opponent well to read the post about the soiling, laugh, and know without a doubt that your opponent did not actually post the soiling status update.

A year later-- I think there was another one in between, but it got deleted-- I got him again:

This was the one that he wanted to delete, but it had so many "likes" and comments that he decided that it should stay.

So, there you have it: Basic Mitching.

Tomorrow, we'll explore some advanced examples, some more sophisticated techniques, and provide some exercises.

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