I once called a guy about something he was advertising in the classifieds. I called him on Easter Sunday. He answered, but said he needed a second before he could talk.
Turns out he was Amish. I called an Amish man on the phone... on Easter Sunday. He answered... while he was in church.
I called an Amish man on his cellphone, which he answered in the middle of Easter mass, to talk about his classified ad.
This was the most tame interaction I've had with Amish folk. They're fucking hardcore.
You know that scene in Parks and Rec where Ron Swanson tips a jug of moonshine up onto his shoulder and pours it down his gullet? I've fucking seen a bearded guy with a big hat and no buttons do that IRL.
The Amish know how to party.
The magic of Three Wolf Moon exists on an entirely different plane than anything else wolf related. Those wolves are no longer a one-man wolfpack.