Tis a sad day for all who inhabit these hallowed...um, halls. Sad because this is the day that Mad...or Lews, whomever was controlling the keyboard at the moment, has asked me to join him in brow beating...er, critiquing the offerings of those who have made it as far as this high plateau.

It is even sadder because I had to look up the word "plateau". It was either that or wax philisophical about topography and geologic formations. (I hope that joke wasn't wasted)

As I have throughout the previous levels, I shall offer painfully brutal critiques of your offerings. You will all notice that I am better at finding your writing wrongs than I am at writing right. I am also better at wronging than I am at writing. Best of all, I am damned good at bad puns, obscure jokes and left turns. Always remember that three lefts make a right.

Now I shall offer my thanks to Mad or Lews for having the confidence in me to invite me into the Level 4 throne room. Er...no, I won't say it.

And now, I bid you farewell. Mostly because I can't spell adieu.