If you leave Manhattan, driving north on I-87, with the Bronx to you right, you’ll see a massive apartment complex. We took a picture of it.

I’m being snarky here, but what I like best about these apartment buildings is the use of the word “luxury.” This may not be fair of me, as I’ve never actually seen the inside of one of these apartments, but I had a hard time coming up with “luxury” when I looked at them. Something about  hovering over a congested and messy highway and an exterior identical to the housing projects just across the way?

It’s one of the words that we’ve killed: luxury. While it used to mean sumptuous, ease, high quality, something that really wealthy people like to buy, now it tends to mean, “we’re trying.”

And while I’m at it, let’s talk about the word gourmet. As in, a deli I recently visited in Chinatown that had dead ducks hanging in the windows. Also hanging in the window? A big sign with the name of the deli, “Gourmet Deli.”

Another word with no meaning: homemade. Like the marinara sauce I purchased from a grocery store. Is it legal for them to write that on the label?

Also not homemade: the pie that won the contest this last weekend. Mixing ice cream and orange juice concentrate? Then pouring it all into a ready-made graham cracker crust?

And in this case, yes, “not homemade” is another way to say “we lost to a six-year old.”

(Oh yeah, and the winning pie? Delicious. I voted for it myself.)

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