Correction is one of our greatest allies. The eraser, white-out, and the backspace key all give us the supreme power to take back what we have done and improve upon it. Imagine typing an email (letter, I guess) on a typewriter. Every keystroke counts. Every keystroke is final, absolute. What a terrifying prospect. Imagine the energy it would take to write something under such strict demands. *Shudder*. No, thank you. With the ability to correct our actions, we can relax and be flexible. Try something out, see if it works; if not, just correct it. With this licence to make mistakes comes an undeniable freedom. The dirty side of correction is that even if we can correct something, the original version exists somewhere. Some one will have read that typo before you catch it and correct it. The disgusting, indecent, erring version can haunt you. The ability to correct can also grab hold of a person and drive them to insanity. The song must be perfect. There can be no mistakes in this document. This risotto must have the ideal balance of savory herbs and bright citrus. This month at (Cult)ure, we take a look at the things in our cultural landscape that need to be righted. We also ask the question, “When is a mistake a good thing?” PBS tree painting icon Bob Ross called mistakes “happy accidents,” and maybe he was on to something. No, wait. Let us correct that. He wasn’t.