In this world of commerce and merchandising, words are among the most malleable of things. Any businessman worth his salt will cheerfully mangle verbiage if it might mean some prospective customer can be fooled. The business lawyer writes tomes that are purposely incomprehensible to make sure you don't know what you're signing up to when you sign. The marketing folks redefine the word "and" so that it means "or" because they need to say, for example, that their car can accelerate from 0-60 mph in 7 seconds and can get 25 miles per gallon. Both of those things are true (which seems like "and"), but not at the same time (which makes it "or"). But it's the advertising guys who have the most fun with the language because it's their job to convince you of things that are dubious at best. It's in advertising that you see adjectives that mean the exact opposite of how they sound. The Modern Jazz Quartet plays only old-sounding Jazz. "Low Fat" is for the foods that have extraordinary amounts of sugar and carbohydrates that will make you fat. The things advertisers mark as "deluxe" are usually pretty unexceptional, except for all the extra chrome pieces that detract your eye from the rest of the design. Any restaurant offering "fine food" has a significant proportion of the menu items cooked in a deep fryer. "Select" is the adjective Safeway uses for its generic goods. "Financial Securities" are the assets that have very insecure values. Let's face it, if an advertiser mentions anything, it's almost surely done to mislead. With this in mind, I should have known before I got to Orlando that the "Disney Contemporary Resort" was likely to be neither contemporary nor a resort. It is Disney, though: spotless, manicured, virginal, and superficially sincere. The Contemporary is a perfectly preserved monument to 1975 style. In case you forgot about Saturday Night Fever and all that, the 70's were pretty horrendous, stylistically speaking. This place has more green/purple combinations than an eggplant and frog stew. The furniture designs are horrifically "futuristic." The restaurant menus are all circa Taxi, and there's not one Starbucks within 10 miles of the place. In summary, I'd have to call this place Dave's Funland. Wish you were here. Yeah, right.