According to Moonalice legend, the tribe's agricultural clan was often forced to disguise its crop to avoid confrontations with the authorities. As we discovered in Charlotte, tribe members in the Piedmont region went so far as to grow something else: tobacco. But in mid-Atlantic states like Delaware, the tribe stuck with hemp, making subterfuge a necessity, as well as a fine art. We learned more in the 3rd inning of the Wilmington Blue Rocks game, when a mascot like no other ran onto the field: Mr. Celery. We kid you not. A stalk of celery with a goofy grin, green shorts, and green knee socks. The entire ball field could have been full of hemp and you would never have known. All eyes were on Mr. Celery.

In Atlanta, we learned about the Discordians, who believe that chaos is as worthy as order. It went from theoretical to real when we arrived in Wilmington. Across the street from our hotel was the 1st and Central Presbyterian Church. You would think the church must be at 1st and Central, right? And you would be wrong. It's at 11th and Market. This has to be the work of the Discordians.

The signs point to Moonalice culture valuing confusion more than chaos. The tribe accepts that life is uncertain and recommends enjoying it. If you don't know how, go to a minor league baseball game.

For the second time, lightning struck twice in a short set.