A radio commentary I wrote that aired on WKSU in August of 2001.

Audio version of the commentary

Even though it’s only been almost a year since we suffered through the final death rattle of the XFL, I recently discovered that Vince McMahon’s dream of extreme is still alive. As I drove by the Twin Star Lanes on my way home the other night, I noticed their sign advertising—you guessed it—extreme bowling.

After letting the possibilities roam through my head for a few days, I called the lanes and spoke to the manager about all the magic that “extreme bowling” entails. He told me that every Friday and Saturday evening they transform the “old-fashioned” midnight leagues into something more in line with the tastes of the younger, hipper bowler. It ends up being something akin to a backwoods rave, only with overhead scoreboards and bad footwear. They make the entire place completely pitch black, save for a few pulsating strobe and black lights. The deejay plays AC/DC, Journey, and Led Zeppelin at brain-piercing decibels. They wrap the pins and balls in glow-in-the-dark safety tape. Miller High Life is half price. The manager could barely contain his excitement.

Maybe they’re onto something, I thought. Perhaps there is something to all this “extreme” business. Over the following few days, I began to notice how engrained this whole “extreme” thing has become in our culture. Tired of corn chips? Dump a pound of cayenne pepper on them—now you have “extreme chips.” Tired of bicycle riding? Put on a suit of plastic armor—now you are an “extreme cyclist.” Need to get excited about perspiration control? Add some orange dye and you have “extreme deodorant.”

So I began to think of ways I could incorporate the “extreme” mantra into my everyday life. I could become “extreme employee,” filling my PowerPoint presentations with flashy graphics, animations, and “edgy” sound effects.
Perhaps it would be fun if I became an “extreme radio commentator.” Every time the muse strikes I could burst into the studio wearing a spandex jumpsuit, wrestle the microphone away from Leonard or Vivian, whip out my hand-scribbled notes, and verbally throw down.

Then again, maybe not. For I’ve begun to wonder where is this all going? Can we soon expect “extreme Pampers?” Perhaps we can look for “extreme pig calling” at this summer’s county fairs. Seniors gathering for games of “extreme shuffleboard?” Are things like the mundane-ness of snack foods, household cleansers, and the number of slices of bacon added to the “extreme Whopper” really the burning issues that need addressed in our society? Are we such a transparent cultural that we feel neon-colored accessories or an extra helping of monosodium glutamate will make us feel we’ve lived life to its limits?

Actually, instead of enhancing life, I think all this “extreme” stuff probably has the opposite effect. Whoppers are still whoppers; corn chips are still just corn chips, and bowling is still--bowling. Its level of “extremity” doesn’t make something that much more useful or enjoyable. For once you’ve gotten over all the glitter and glitz—you’ll probably find the whole mess “extremely” unsatisfying.