The Best of Salsa on Medium

Reuben Salsa in 1990. He hasn’t grown up at all.

Reuben Salsa’s writing has been described as the bastard son of Oscar Wilde if Oscar Wilde was suddenly thrown into a pool of radioactive waste after impregnating Britney Spears. The “best kept secret on Medium” says absolutely nobody. Here’s the brilliant and often divisive best of Reuben Salsa.

The Satirical

The Confessional

The Musical

The Humorous

The Political

The Controversial

The Seriously Historical

The BIGGEST viral post of bollocks you’ll ever read

I can’t get censored no matter how hard I try

Images from Dailychubs on Instagram

I’m done with Instagram. I feel the platform isn’t treating me fairly. No matter how much flesh I expose, the algorithm refuses to notice my plus-size body.

I’ve tried everything. I’ve freed my nipple in the most sexually contrived manner I could possibly do. I tarted my nipple up with glitter and rubbed various lube around the surrounding man boob, but still had no response. My nipples remained on display freely living life in sub-zero temperatures, all perked and erect for action.

I’ve shown off my inner thighs that stretch-marked their way up to my navel. I’ve slow-moed the wobble action with glistening sweat shaken off in terror like some after-beached dog shaking itself dry. My thigh curves luxuriously across the screen in monolithic arty slabs of…


Dave’s kiss-off was sublime

Fuck You. Image from Flickr.

People get pissed. People get trolled. Some people react. Others save their best for a weekly newsletter. This is how Copywriter Dave took his revenge on an unsubscribing Colin.

Colin, for his faults, was a fan of Dave. That’s why he signed up for his FREE newsletter full of barely disguised marketing tips. Colin knew he was on to a good thing. He recognized an opportunity when it came butt-slapping onto his lap. This was a FREE email divulging secrets of the trade and a low-entry point into the world of email marketing and copywriting. …


My identity was wrapped too tightly with my hair

Me on a boat somewhere in Indonesia. My dreads are in full length. Photo by Author.

In the TV series Fleabag (season 2), a hairdresser protests “Hair isn’t everything” after the main character returns to the saloon with her sister who had played the victim of a crime against hair. Fleabag unleashes the following:

“Hair is everything. We wish it wasn’t, so we could actually think about something else occasionally. But it is. It’s the difference between a good day and a bad day. We’re meant to think that it’s a symbol of power, that it’s a symbol of fertility. Some people are exploited for it and it pays your fucking bills. Hair is everything.”

Hair is everything to me.



The most stylish thugs of totalitarian regimes

Photo by Jonathan Cooper on Unsplash

I had this idea after watching a short movie about Idi Amin, the Ugandan dictator and all-around evil arsehole. I started but couldn’t find any reason to continue. It was all based on the Ugandan death squad, The State Research Bureau. They were some serious-ass stylish motherfuckers.


Sweden’s greatest rock act since forever…apparently

Screenshot by the author from Youtube

“A velvet glove with brass knuckles, both brutal and sophisticated at the same time.” The Hives

There I was, sitting with the family, watching a movie. The missus insisted we watch something wholesome. No blood. No vampires. No killing. And for the love of G-d, don’t let the six-year-old choose. She had a severe leaning towards unicorns and Barbie.

Our son went off in a huff. Disney wasn’t his cup of tea. Minecraft and zombies were more his pace. …


And it made me faint

Keanu Reeves loves Keanu Reeves loves Keanu Reeves. Image from Flickr

I once met Keanu Reeves in a toilet. It was Saturday. I had spent a humid afternoon chasing cats around Times Square as part of the Anti-Abolish-Pussy Hunt. There were too many felines and action was needed. It was hard work. Several cats had been shaved incorrectly and resembled puckering newborns squirming for love. The why’s matter little. All that counted was me, in the right place, meeting Keanu.

I saw it. As I stood at the urinal I couldn’t help but peek. I saw the whole nine yards. The full member. The uncut version. Keanu’s pecker. I wanted to…


Can a Jew say that?

It’s that time of year again. The high holiday season has rolled around and every family is preparing for the fast. And I hate it.

I honestly can’t remember a happy Yom Kippur. I can hear you chortling. You’re not supposed to be happy on the Day of Atonement. It’s all about prayers and fasting and repentance. A day to reflect on the wrongs you’ve committed and own up to all the bacon slices you’ve greedily gobbled down.

To me, it always felt so fake. As any regular attendees of the local synagogue will tell you, Jews would suddenly become…


And other absurd nonsense

Somebody help this Redhead. Image from Flickr Creative Commons.

It’s all about carrots. And Gingers. Red-headed people with anger issues conforming to the generalization of the red-headed menace. Cannibalize them all. Pull out an arm from a twangy bush. Decapitate the hired help if a single red pube is spotted.

A London firm once hired a red-headed woman for reception and then promptly ate her. In what is the world’s worse segue or disaster of a pivot, Tim Cook once said:

In a world without digital privacy, even if you have done nothing wrong other than think differently, you begin to censor yourself. Not entirely at first. Just a…


Take the time to celebrate your offensive side

Be the Duck Fucking Duck. Image from Flickr Creative Commons

It’s the biggest bigot day of the year! The one day you can cut loose with all your inner gripes. The one day the world will celebrate with you and smile as you offend the flakiest of snowflakes and humblest of humbraggers.

Take the time to moan to loved ones and work colleagues. This is your day. Seize it!

Have you always wanted to yell at the millennial for whining about their lack of money, their sense of entitlement, their poor and lazy attitude, their unwillingness to pay their dues, their informality…and everything else that winds you up? Now you…

Reuben Salsa

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