Newsletter | Bruce Turner

SPEAKER STORYTELLER HUMAN

The Newsletter

WHAT TO EXPECT

Communication lessons that stick — hidden inside true stories from my reckless, sometimes illegal, often hilarious life as a former male stripper, TV host, drug addict, actor, underwear model, wanted man, and a person deep in the messy art of being human.

Essays

Who the F*ck Am I, and Why Might You Care

2026 You probably have no idea who I am —and honestly? That’s perfect. Because I’m not here to pitch you something filtered. I’m here to share what 30-plus years of hard-won lessons have carved into the fabric of my being. One awkward, wild, sometimes-illegal moment at a time. I’m Bruce. I used to host TV shows, do some acting, work as a male stripper, some underwear modeling—and got caught up in a lot of fuckery. But to even begin to understand who’s writing this, we’ve got

Oct 197 min read

Cocaine, Cops, and CHAOS

The following is a classic example of the importance of saying very little and playing naive when confronted by the coppers. It’s also a lesson in how proper body language can help you frame an encounter and get you the result you’re looking for. 2012 — "The cops are headed our way," I said. "Stay in the car," my buddy Johnny replied. It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in June — Johnny (my buddy) and I were riding our usual cocaine wave, and we were dangerously low on GHB.

Oct 195 min read

The SWAT Raid: Part 1

2012— “Get the fuck out of there, the MAJOR CRIME SQUAD and SWAT just raided the house, and they’re looking for you.” Those were the words of my nephew Dallas as I picked up the phone from our cottage in Haliburton, Ontario. That was Tuesday, June 22, 2012, at 8:30 am. I was sitting at the kitchen table on my MacBook, listening to Ekhart Tolle on YouTube and doing my regular morning routine at the time of meditating and studying. That peace was instantly hijacked by fear and

Oct 196 min read

The Day I Prostituted My Self For The First Time

1996Crash! A package of uncooked spaghetti hits the wall as I grab my winter coat and make a dash for the garage. Everything I need to survive in this moment is in there. It’s mid-January, and a massive snowstorm is hammering Southern Ontario. I’m from Scarborough—the east end of Toronto. If you’ve lived through a southern Ontario winter, you know the type — it’s more like Fargo than fairy tale most of the time. The wind was howling, and the snow was whirling and parallel to

Oct 199 min read