Paul Oakenfold? Is that what he’s going by on Earth? Haw HAW! My worthy manservant Adolfo and I, Blitzberg Nine, Imperial Assassin of the Zedda-Krelt Empire (ALL HAIL KING RARNOG XI THE MAGNIFICENT!) have crossed the breathless void of space from our magnificent homeworld of Perfecto, to your dumb “planet” in my regal and fiercesome warship, the Starjammer. Deep in a slumber lasting centuries innumerable I dreamt only of fulfilling my sole purpose—to enforce the judgment which has been levied after it ‘twas discovered that infected with the foul palsy of lust, the court magician Nickels HaffenHole (yourPaul Oakenfold) had stolen from the royal bedchamber of the king’s youngest son, an athletic “girdle” which had been recently used during the boy’s vigorous exercise regime. He was discovered fumbling with himself, the garment having been sewn around his head serving as what he described as a “breathing apparatus,” in his own bizarre “war game.” The sentence for such gross lechery? To infect the traitor with the newly perfected, but suitably dreaded, Castration Virus. And so I did. The scientists on our genius-only R&D planet of Thunderstrike described the process as: “… beginning with the withering of the testes, followed by an unreasonable desire to dance and play music ending with the spontaneous evacuation of cranial fluids via the subject’s hair follicles. I tracked Nickels to Earth, finding him as you will observe in Picture A above, in a wretched state. Bloated and desperate he and his consort Tipsy Nutfinder had been basing their operations out of a tin-roofed shack just outside of Reno, Nevada. Obviously he had outstayed his welcome on Earth, and down to his last coins was gambling merely to live. It was difficult for me, once an admirer of his daring bravado, to observe. His physical shell had… deteriorated so that I did not at first recognize the powerful wizard, who had been a hero in the eighth Pan-Galactic War. Jowly and breasted, hunched over the table, throat filled with croaking horror at my arrival he was unable to even attempt flight due to his milky, fulsome thighs and cresting abdomen. Did he plead with me? No. There was but a single tear, and so to grant that its proper dignity I am allowing him a final day of “work” in order to say goodbye to those who know him. A “concert,” he claims. In the city of Scottsdale, state of Arizona and country of the States United. I, out of pathos (pity), even went as far as to help him create advertising declaring the event, which you may observe: Picture B below. Surrounded by his infamously impenetrable Laz-zer© Forcefield and wearing his Pan-Galactic War VIII hero medal Haffenhole’s eyes, once more shone with the penetrating steel of one who knows only how to win; and despite the fact that the progressive path of the castration virus had dissolved his manhood to a formless gelatin, he would go on… one more time, a towering inferno of failure and brute-force persistence on the Relentless Beach, in Scottsdale, in Arizona, on the Relentless Beach, September 21st. May he find the absolution he seeks.