The Beefcake of My Cousin's Cousin's Home Town

I have to fly to South Carolina for a funeral, and my mother wants me to look up some sort of distant non-relative, the son of my cousin George's cousin on his mother's side.  I checked him out on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram: 28 years old, nice physique, but there are 20,000 photos of him with guns and fishing poles.

Plus he has a girlfriend, of whom he posts "If you have an amazing woman like i do go out your way to let her know that no-ones got shit on her."

Gee, how poetic.

Then I read that he graduated from Berkeley.

Say what?

Turns out that it's not the University of California, Berkeley, the bastion of the New Left, the ultra liberal, ultra intellectual Harvard of the West.  It's Berkeley High School in Moncks Corner, South Carolina (that's how they spell it, one of the weirdest, most Gothic towns in all the Truman Capote-Flannery O'Connor-Tennessee Williams South.

Its main tourist draw are the scary Cypress Gardens

It was originally a Huguenot settlement (French Protestants fleeing Catholic oppression).

There's a Trappist Monastery that got in trouble for unethical treatment of the chickens they used for egg farming.

It's the home of Charlamagne tha God (that's how he spells it), an actor and talk show host who got in trouble for defending transphobic violence.

There are restaurant called Little Pappy's, Tail Race, and Gilligan's, after the tv show Gilligan's Island.

There are Baptist, Primitive Baptist, Missionary Baptist, Church of God, Christianity Holiness (that's how they spell it), Assemblies of God, AME, and Nazarene churches.

The high school offers basketball, baseball, football, wrestling, and girls-only cheerleading.  It has no Gay-Straight Alliance.  The principal graduated from the ultra-fundamentalst Grand Canyon University.  The coach tells us about his wife and kids.  Apparently girls' tennis is big, but I only found one good photo of a wrestler.
















These two are not actually from Moncks Corner, but they wrestled there.


















And one presentable photo of a swimmer.

So, what do you think?  Should I take an extra day and drive 50 miles to visit my cousin's cousin from Moncks Corners?

Turns out that I didn't need to bother visiting him.  He visited me.  See: The Surprising Post-Gay Halloween of Charleston, South Carolina.