We took a group of high school kids on a mission trip right after Hurricane Katrina to rebuild flood-damaged houses. Stayed Saturday night in a church basement in less-than-urban Tennessee. We felt obligated to attend their service the next morning… where the pastor made a big deal of their cornholing.
None of us yanks had heard the term used for anything G-rated. We could NOT stop laughing (silently, but the back pew we were in was shaking).
It didn’t help that the old men in the church were called up to the pulpit to persuade people: “Ah jes’ don’ see whyyy we cain’t git more people cornholin’. It’s good clean fun, an’ you can even do it with a beer in yer other haind.”