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 to back up to 1993.
1993 I was in university, completely broke, when I entered an amateur male stripping competition.
I won $500 - and as they say, the rest is history.
You’ve heard of Magic Mike, maybe?
Well, I was Bruce Rock when Channing Tatum was 13 years old!
That persona survived a wild 10-year run that eventually led to emceeing shows for 400 to 500 women five nights a week.
That’s where I got a whirlwind tour in the art of reading a room—and (for good or ill), the power of listening to get what I wanted.
1995 I had the incredible opportunity to adopt a baby boy.
I was 25, single, in university, and still wearing tearaway pants for a living—but ready to show up.
That kid became one of my greatest teachers and is still my best friend and biggest supporter to this day.
1996 I opened The TV Room - Toronto’s first transgender bar that eventually evolved into a full-blown alternative lifestyles club.
Strippers, crossdressers, trans people, 1% bikers, prostitutes, drug dealers, cops—criminals of all sorts. I served drinks to them all, talked with them all, and learned from all of them.
There was cocaine everywhere, and if you’ve ever been around people doing coke, you know you’re forced to listen.
I opened it with one of my stripper buddies and a gay friend who travelled with the male dance troupe.
His name was Eddie, and he did a drag show. He eventually transitioned to Amanda, where she found her groove - it was super cool.
We opened the TV Room after she transitioned.
1998 We sold the bar, and soon after, I bumped into an old buddy who worked maintenance at a TV station that owned more than 10 channels.
He joked about a job that paid $11.50 an hour. I didn’t need the money, but I saw the door of opportunity.
The maintenance guys were a crazy and eclectic crew (you’re going to be shocked in about 30 seconds, keep reading).
We moved furniture, assembled furniture, built shelving, and hung pictures, stuff like that. It was fun.
And of course, yours truly made sure the people with power and influence had their pictures hung and furniture assembled fast, perfectly and with a smile.
People started to talk about the new stripper-guy from the maintenance department.
🍌 Bananas But True #1 Two of our ten-man maintenance crew were active bank robbers featured on the Crime Stoppers report just two floors above us in the newsroom! They worked part-time and only a handful of times. One even wore his trademark red bandana and black backwards baseball hat (think Axl Rose) while we worked. He was being featured on Crime Stoppers in the newsroom one minute, and then walking right past it to take out the recycling the next. Not one crime stopper in the building, apparently. They were eventually caught after hitting about 4–5 banks. They never hurt anyone and never pulled a gun, eventually serving just two years in a minimum-security facility with no fences, out in the country. Lesson: Bank robbers in Canada once had one of the best ROIs (return on investment) of any profession - anywhere. Warning: To those considering robbing banks in Canada—notice I said "had one of the best ROIs..."? There's very little money in banks anymore. Plus, those RING doorbells will track the shit out of you. Otherwise, I'd say go for it.
2000 Within two years, I leveraged communication skills and charm to become a floor director at the company's most popular station, MuchMusic (Canada’s MTV).
One minute, I was moving furniture and hanging pictures, and the next, I was wrangling celebrities, producers, publicists, inflated egos, and screaming teenagers during live tapings with Ricky Martin, Britney Spears, Avril Lavigne, J-Lo—you get the gist.
Plus, I was still stripping on the weekends. I felt like life was basically perfect.
2002 Then came the TV hosting gigs. First, a show where I interviewed music artists where we played Sony PlayStation and talked music. It was cool, and I was pretty shitty - it was really just a clever ad for SONY—but hey, all sides won, and I got a PlayStation for my son.
2003 I was offered to host a reality show called Strip Search—a PG-rated hunt for Canada’s next great male exotic dance revue (aka- Male Strippers - aka Magic Mike - aka Bruce Rock). It aired on Bravo! for one season and was super fun.
📝Note: I was still stripping on weekends. A week after Strip Search's last episode aired, four or five women from the station came to the club to see Bruce Rock. Two of them were executives who actually worked on the show. The show was over, and now they wanted to see me take my clothes off. So did my gay boss and his buddy. My colleagues that I worked with every Monday to Friday were going to be sitting front row at perfect dick-to-eye height. I rarely went fully nude, but this was a special occasion, and if they thought they were coming to embarrass me, they had another thing cummin. So I went fully nude. Anyway, it was a fun night, and everyone got to see my dick.
2004 I was offered a job hosting a show that helped women who needed a second chance at life: Style By Jury. It changed my life and ran for 8 seasons in over 20 countries. It was terrific, and deeply emotional work—I loved helping these people, and I loved 96.66% of the people I worked with. (There was one piece-of-sh*t I didn’t like --- oops, was that Bruce 2009 speaking?😂)
📊DATA POINT: How did I come up with 96.66%? Simple - I added cocksucker + motherfucker x sonofabitch + dicknose x √fuckface ÷ 44 (the number of people I remember working with) = 96.66%
Okay…SNAP!…where was I? Right. 2009.
2009 Style by Jury came to an end, and it felt like I had lost a big part of me. I know, it sounds cheesy, right?
In fact, the people I worked with were really only a phone call away; however, I still missed them and felt pretty sad.
2010 I was 40 years old and was offered the spokesperson gig for a new men's underwear line, which was featured on an episode of Dragons' Den (the original Shark Tank).
They flew me to Vancouver, and we got some great shots. I remember my girlfriend sewing OxyContin 80s in the seams of some jeans and track pants —this was the beginning of a very tough road.
2011 Every wild step gave me a front-row seat to humanity—from the spotlight society to the shadows.
Unfortunately, personal challenges soon surfaced.
A close friend's s*icide, coupled with the absence of job offers (and an abundance of time), led me down a dark path of addiction.
Cocaine, heroin, GHB, alcohol, and benzodiazepines became part of my daily intake—all day, every day. NOT KIDDING.
In hindsight, I was weak. The pending doom that comes with a drug habit was palpable— I didn’t listen. I should have seriously addressed my substance use and changed who I hung out with.
After two years of fucking craziness and nonsense, I moved to Los Angeles.
I needed to clean up. (I know - not the go-to destination to clean up (and as I’ve said many times, I’ll explain later)).
I had no television or internet - I sat in silence - meditating 4 to 6 hours a day.
Fifteen years later, I still enjoy about 2 hours per day - every day - rarely missing.
2013 So at this point, I’ve been an underwear model, stripper, drug addict, TV Host, and Actor (in no particular order), amongst other titles and labels I gave myself. Now check this out…this is fucking nuts!
🍌Bananas But True #2 "A month and a half after getting back from LA, I relapsed like most dedicated addicts. Soon after, I was being followed and wiretapped by Toronto’s Major Crime Squad (those dudes are scary and looked like bikers and hoodlums) and then raided by the SWAT team. It made the news, and my talent manager in Los Angeles was getting her phone blown up by national news agencies in Canada." Takeaway: Don't do drugs and hang out with fucking drug dealers.
2025-26 Communication and Chaos exists. Hopefully not to get you out of a sticky situation with the coppers, but hey, if you are, I have some advice you can apply to anyone, anywhere, anytime.
PARTING WORDS
I’ve been interested in mindfulness communication, and the messy, beautiful ways it shapes our lives, for a long time now.
But it took me this long to feel ready.
Ready to have the courage to tell my story.
I’m proud to say I’ve been clean and sober for a while now.
Clean-headed. Open-hearted. Strong-willed.
And finally, strong enough to share what helped me and what I’ve learnt by traversing the areas of humanity most people try to avoid.
I created COMMUNICATION and CHAOS— not because I’ve figured it all out, but because I’ve been through enough of the mental shit-storm to know what matters to me. And maybe it will matter to you, too.
I’ve been stripped down, built up, broken down again, and come out of it all with a few truths that I’ll be sharing in the newsletters that follow.
However, there is something I can tell you for certain.
Communication matters big-time!
The words you choose, the words you don’t choose, the way you speak to others, and most importantly, how you speak to yourself, have a massive impact on your life experience—good or ill, it’s up to you.
Thanks, it means a lot 🙂
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