Apparently in meteorology, “bomb” means something distinctive and specific:
The particularly intense nor’easter that spawned this blizzard has officially entered ‘bomb’ territory–a technical meteorological definition meaning a rapid deepening of a low pressure system by more than 24 millibars in 24 hours (also, designed to frighten little children into a lifetime of snowy terror). Our blizzard-y friend achieved this mark with room to spare, intensifying from 1012 millibars Thursday morning to 986 millibars at press time, a mere 20 hours later. (Daily Beast)
This is why, all yesterday, I felt like dried turkey crap, recapitulating a history of injuries and subsiding into a weepy yet self-aware slough of depression by around midnight. If the Day of Judgment involves cyclones and tornadoes, I will be in a position to predict it. I knew pretty much why I felt like I did, I just didn’t realize a bomb was involved.
Some people are just walking barometers. It isn’t all about the air pressure; electrical valence participates in our subjective experience. (Jeebus. If dogs crap in line with the earth’s magnetic field — see previous post — is it preposterous that atmospheric forces affect how we feel?)
Bomb. I feel a bit vindicated.