I just finished reading the book “The Great Typo Hunt,” in which two guys take a three-month road trip all over the U.S. in order to correct any typo they saw, both on public and private property. The book shouldn’t win a Pulitzer Prize but it was pretty entertaining; plus I think the idea is so outrageously kooky and brilliant. Don’t we all secretly hate when there’s a blatant, glaring typo in a message that could otherwise be truly profound? Or when a restaurant invests so much time and money in their ambiance, and then makes a simple spelling mistake. For years it used to bug me when I walked by a delicious burger restaurant in my town, Phyllis’ Giant Burgers. Their window proudly displayed their name but then the awning misplaced the apostrophe, so it read “Phylli’s Giant Burgers.” It was like a tic; I wanted to whip out the White-Out every time I walked by. Then one winter break I came home from college and it was blessedly fixed—a Christmas miracle, and a serious point of empathy for these crazy guys who quit their jobs and social lives to hunt down and correct typos.