I am not sure when I first heard the words "bath bomb." It must have been a quarter-century ago when wars and their reportage were focused more on corporate mergers than on roadside explosions and aerial targets. Back then, if a person, place or thing was worth swooning over, we referred to them as "the bomb".
The events of 9/11 changed the way we think of bombs when its perpetrators allegedly hi-jacked and steered three fully-fuelled passenger aircraft into the World Trade Centre and the Pentagon.
Now the word "bomb" is used to describe any number of things that imply a concentration of incendiary elements -- the most recent example occurring at a chocolatier on Robson Street a couple of blocks west of the Vancouver Art Gallery, where the Bombhead exhibition banner hangs like a dirty towel before an institution enslaved by the sound of its own unmaking.
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