'Humiliating' truth about influencer TooTurntTony and his extreme stunts: He's ripped, makes $3M a year and has all the hottest girls... but a dark reality lies beneath
He's tanned. He's ripped. He's often shirtless. And he's got 30 million fans who can't get enough of his crazy Florida antics. Anthony Dawson — better known as TooTurntTony — is the king of so-called 'swamp slapstick' in the Sunshine State. The 30-year-old mega-influencer has built an empire out of pranks, babes and backyard chaos. But behind the laughs and the lake water, there's something lurking beneath the surface. Viewers have grown increasingly concerned about the dark side of Dawson's 'bro humor' brand. In one video, for example, Dawson flings a bikini-clad woman 30 feet into a pool containing a crocodile. In another, he tosses an intern down an embankment so hard the poor guy claims to have broken two ribs — before Dawson mocks him for it. He's always 'too turnt,' meaning overly excited, wild or even dangerous. Speaking to the Daily Mail, psychologist Toby Ingham, author of A Guilty Victim, claimed Dawson's stunts blur the line between entertainment and abuse. 'Tony's certainly intimidating people,' Ingham alleged. 'He pushes them around — and they're always supposed to see the funny side.' He described Dawson's online persona as 'vain and narcissistic,' a 'sadomasochistic' ringmaster who's seemingly found a way to turn humiliation into a multimillion-dollar brand. 'He's charismatic,' Ingham speculated. 'He makes people complicit — and then he humiliates them.' Dawson did not answer the Daily Mail's requests for comment. Before fame, Dawson was a duck rancher in Michigan. He started posting videos about wetland conservation and his feathered friends. His pet duck, named Baby Girl, became a breakout star. Then came the girls, the boats, the gators and the brand deals. Now he lives large on Lake Istokpoga, Florida, in a $525,000 lake house, where the parties never seem to end. He boasts 21 million followers on TikTok, 7 million on YouTube and 4 million on Instagram, and was named one of Forbes' Top 50 Creators in 2023, reportedly making $3 million a year from content and brand deals with Crocs, Celsius, Fireball Whisky and Kraken Rum. He even has his own drink — Too Turnt Tea — and a horror movie in the works titled Skinwalker Island. And, back in August 2024, he signed with the Hollywood powerhouse talent agency CAA. Not bad for a guy who started filming ducks in his backyard. Dawson's content revolves around the so-called TooTurntFamily — his mother Lisa, father Gordon, sister Maria and brother Dominic — and they're often unwilling participants in his stunts, but always end up on camera. Fans love their reactions: Mom screaming, dad sighing and Maria looking like she's reconsidering her life choices. But not all laughs come easy. Mom Lisa reportedly broke her arm during a skit in 2022, and Maria was left nauseated after being duct-taped to a wall for another prank. Even Dawson himself suffered a serious knee injury in 2023 — though, naturally, he posted footage of it. Still, the show goes on. The TooTurnt universe churns out content daily, each clip more wild than the last. And the fans, interns and bikini-clad beauties keep lining up to join him, perhaps in the hope that some of his followers and star power will rub off on their feeds, too. But as Dawson's fame exploded, so did the controversies. In 2022, he posted a series of 'Dahmer pranks' — recreating scenes from the hit Netflix series about serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer. He used a power drill outside his mother's bedroom and placed roadkill under her bed. The internet didn't find it funny. 'It's so insensitive and disgusting,' one follower wrote. 'This isn't content. It's cruelty.' Then in July 2024, Dawson drove his Jeep onto Daytona Beach, wrangled a large tiger shark, and dragged it through the surf for a video. Police were not amused. He was banned from the beach. Later that year, Dawson briefly disappeared from social media, revealing only that he'd been summoned to federal court for unspecified reasons. He came back with a grin and a beer — but offered no explanation. Animal rights activists have also taken aim at him, accusing Dawson of mishandling wildlife, including ducks, raccoons and alligators. One clip from last year appeared to show him trapping a raccoon before beating it to death — though it was later claimed to be staged. Some viewers, however, weren't reassured. 'It's never really clear what's real,' one fan said. 'But the blood looks real enough.' Unlike comedy shows where the stars humiliate themselves, Ingham said, TooTurntTony's stunts seem to humiliate other people. 'It's a performance of power,' psychologist Ingham speculated. 'Tony's never the butt of the joke — he's always the one dishing out the apparent pain.' 'It's a one-way street,' he continued. 'He's the doer. They're the done-to.' And yet, millions keep watching. To Ingham, that says as much about us as it does about Dawson. 'We seem to enjoy watching people get hurt — and then thanking the person who hurt them,' he claimed. And he sees Dawson's popularity as part of a bigger social shift. 'We've normalized danger,' he said. 'Social media has taken us to riskier, potentially more harmful places — and we've started to see it as entertainment.' Maybe it's the Florida factor. The land of alligators, airboats and endless sunshine seems to produce a special kind of madness. Dawson fits right in — muscles, mischief and mayhem all wrapped up in one viral package. There's something undeniably magnetic about him. He's charming, funny and quick-witted. He plays the role of the lovable rogue — the guy who'll toss you into a lake, then offer you a beer while you dry off. His catchphrases — 'Stay Turnt!' and 'Duck Daddy Life!' — have become rallying cries for fans who see him as the embodiment of carefree, shirtless rebellion. Dawson himself has spoken publicly about the creative process behind his rise. In a 2022 piece by Business Insider, he said: 'I knew if I tried enough different things, eventually something would stick.' He also told the outlet he chooses brand collaborations 'based on whether it matches our vibe, we can make a great video with this, and both parties will be happy.' Those comments suggest the pranks and stunts may be less spontaneous than they appear — part of a calculated strategy to engage and build a personal brand. But the laughs are getting louder, while each new video pushes the limits a little more and every prank feels closer to crossing a line. So what happens when the laughs stop? What happens when a prank goes too far — when someone actually gets hurt, or worse? It's hard to say. Dawson's career is still climbing. His fan base still cheers him on. And in a world where clicks mean cash, danger seems to sell. Ingham claimed Dawson's story is a cautionary tale about modern fame — the kind that rewards recklessness with riches. 'Social media doesn't just amplify behavior,' he claimed. 'It encourages it. You have to keep topping yourself to stay relevant.' And for TooTurntTony, that next viral stunt is always just around the corner — faster, louder, and maybe even a little crueler.