Look, Cliff Cash doesn’t want to alarm you, but as a North Carolina native with a mom who speaks in tongues, a dad who worked on pit crews in Nascar’s dirt-track days, and a lesbian big sister, he’s starting to think TV might not be making Southerners look good—less Southern Charm, more Southern Harm. Truly, when’s the last time you saw a southerner with a multisyllabic vocabulary and explicable storyline recounting a recent hurricane on the news? Then again, what God-and-Dale-Earnhardt-fearing Christian doesn’t go a little crazy when the socialisms and the Nobamas are coming to take your daddy’s junk-drawer .38 and your grandpappy’s hunting rifle, ‘cause they’re gonna melt ‘em down to make rings for abortion doctors’ gay Sharia weddings?

Called a cross between Bill Hicks and Rory Scovel (by Kevin Nealon, no less, though we’d also add a big dash of Kyle Kinane to this comedic DNA mapping effort), Cliff Cash is not only the voice of the new south, he’s a pop-cultural ambassador, booty rap translator, amateur dietician (hot tip: Mountain Dew is not, in fact, a sports drink), and semi-pro Wilmington anthropologist who can do the running man and the cabbage patch at the same time. Wherever he’s going, Cliff Cash is at least Half Way There.