Take a Scalpel to Miami Radio

If I stop listening to Miami radio stations in my car, it won't be because I start paying $12.95 a month for satellite radio. It won't be because I become tech-savvy and figure out how to stream Spotify or Pandora. It won't be because I start deco-biking to work. It won't be because I've grown tired of Pitbull and Christina Aguilera, Pitbull and J. Lo, Pitbull remixed with Enrique, Pitbull featuring Pharrell, Daddy Yankee, Lil' Jon and Pitbull com Michel Telo. I like Pitbull and All Pitbull, All-the-time-radio stations. It won't be the 411 Pain ads whose catchy beats trick me into singing and dancing before I realize what they are and go red with embarrassment: they got me again.

No, if I turn off Miami radio stations permanently, it will be to avoid the barrage of ads in English, Spanish and Creole for plastic surgery. The ads are never for serious surgeries like cleft palate, burn grafting or mastectomies. They always tout the benefits of cosmetic surgery for a higher pompis, a flat stomach without a day of abdominal exercises or "fixing" sagging breasts. The ads prey on insecurities with promises of "look better on the beach." "have the life you always wanted" and "make him want you again" promises. Even the DJs have gotten into paid endorsements sharing details of their lipo and how great they look while still eating lechon every Sunday.

The ads insist on how much better I'd look without a muffin top, flabby arms, jiggling thighs, my nature-designed breasts, aging neck, eyelids and even eyelashes. Really? Eyelashes? Now we need to fix our aging eyelashes too? In our overprescribed, overmedicated and over-classified world, soon children may be diagnosed as PEAS (Premature Eyelash Aging Syndrome.) They would get prescribed medication, lotion and eyelash extensions to help them do better in school and look like a very awake Tiara Toddler.

The worst part is that the ads don't just hammer how much better post-surgery looks, but how accessible, how nearly free the financial plans make them. For less than a monthly car payment, I could have a new body. Not even a high end car. My new high-end body would cost less than a low-end car per month. And with my new high-end body, maybe I'd attract a high-end car.

But I don't want it. Sure, I could change my nose or booty or stomach. But then I'd look nothing like my actual family and instead look like the family of scalpeled clones running around Miami and seen on Miami television. Or worse, I'd become like Jennifer Grey, a rising star who became unrecognizable post-plastic surgery and killed her acting career.

With the cheap cost, "no big deal" attitude about surgery and "new best life ever" espoused in all the radio ads, is it a big surprise locals went to a "Doctor" for Brazilian butt implants who injected cement and "Fix a Flat" in their butts in his home "office"? It gives new meaning to bargain basement rates.

So, Miami radio stations, please stop all the nip and tuck propaganda before I nip and tuck into another form of musical pleasure.