Mystic Rhythms

I invited Neil Peart to my ranch once. Loves to cook.

I had some Argentinian beef that had just arrived, so he grilled steaks and caught drippings for poutine.

Thought I had died and gone to heaven.

Later I woke up and shuffled down to the kitchen for a late-night Ensure.

Neil and one of my ranch hands were rutting on the island, covered in tallow.

I'm glad I keep the fire extinguisher near the fridge.

Still an amazing drummer.
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