I am clearly a magnet for all things mistyped. I got one from a travel story on Mainz, Germany, that advised: “Stroll along the romantic Christmas market and soak up the scent of mulled wine and roast, sweet pastries and hot morons.” (Would that be a few Mr. Olives?) I got another from a frustrated editor: “One of the customers’ favorites, the New England roll, combines shrimp tempura and spicy tuna tempura flacks with crispy soft shell crap, plum sauce and eel sauce.” (Truth in typing — unhappy free meal, you think?) And I got a third allegedly from the NYTimes, although I was not about to trawl around the Drivelist to verify it: “Gently simmered in a rich garlic-flecked tomato sauce until soft and velvety but not the least mushy, I had seconds, then thirds. . . .” (First, you braise the writer.) At least they all understand the main rule of sloppy keyboarding: If you have to get it wrong, get it silly.