Some might see this in his curious mindset a sign of moral schizophrenia, based on which, however, never fails nell’identikit of any good psychological genocidal. But it would be, as we shall see, an accusation ungenerous.
The real proofreader – whatever his working hours – is always on duty as a police officer in that resort, abandoned the uniform, nevertheless feel an irresistible urge to catch the pickpocket. Proofreading does not shrink at nothing, the spell: if you are reading a book already ready- printed, does not accept that the typos have got away with it, at least not in the copy in his possession: and so diligently corrects them on the sidelines with the his pencil icon, that, where do justice (but there is always the second edition, which is how the appeals process), is at least restored the truth.
And do not believe that his zeal is confined to the world of the book. Wherever there are letters and words in a row, there lurks the potential harm to amend. Already I belong in all respects to this sad human family, I will tell you that nothing offends me more than a neon sign that is immortalized for all eternity, a misprint. And I speak not of unintentional typos that come from a light bulb, for which you can blame the neglect, or the wear of time.
I speak typos real, deliberate, commissioned a manufacturer of neon signs which in turn did not realize the error: neither he nor all the people who, in one way or another, have passed through his workshop. I still remember – and I am twenty years – that place that proudly sported, I would say crassamente, name flashing Snak Bar (which would be a typo as well for a reptile). I had then, I confess, the impulse to go underground and found that Orthographic be darkened Brigades, armed with slings and stones, that and other atrocities. A little as the Marcovaldo Italo Calvino, which takes the sign of the stone Cognac (indeed, the only GNAC), which prevents him from seeing the firmament.
A real proofreader (like those at www.a-mentor.co.uk) does not retire the uniform interior even when it has to do with the menu of a restaurant: it may not have eaten for days, but there is no appetite clouding the view that it can not see the point of those who tortelllini l have one too many, there is no dish so divine that it can not disgust him if he is served with a typo. “Waiter! There is a typo in my plate!”, I heard someone shout. And then, to his great sorrow, the concealer is forced to never take a dessert. The Creme Caramel loses its taste if it becomes Cream or even Crem.
It can put a cross on the profiteroles, which is fine if they become Profitterol or Proffiterols. A pizzeria near my house, so as not to make mistakes, an interim report on the menu Profiter: each and then choose Г la carte its suffix gasket.