Teamworking Day: The Celebrity Lookalike-Off 🌭

Seanbaby: Hi, I’m Seanbaby, professional game designer.

Brockway: I’m Robert Brockway. I live at my house.

Seanbaby: The game I designed this Teamworking Day, professionally, is called Rad n’ Roll Lookalike War Cards. Using the latest headshots from two different British celebrity lookalike agencies, I generated one deck of cards for myself and another for Brockway. These are not jokes, and I did not cheat. These people are all real, and as of press time, working lookalikes. I color-coded our cards so we could tell the owner apart, but something weird happened at the printer and Brockway’s came back like this:

Brockway: The holographic foil is there to verify it’s a real Fart Star.

Seanbaby: The rules of the game are, as always, simple. Brockway and I will wage lookalike war across eleven events. At each one, he and I must summon a celebrity knockoff to create maximum impact. End of rules, Brockway goes first.

Dr. Wendell Plant has finally sold his practice to make more time for online gambling. Ready your incredible lookalike decks, heroes! Make this orthodontist’s retirement special!

Brockway: I’ve long said Roger Moore is the orthodontist’s Bond, just like Timothy Dalton is the divorced speedboat salesman’s Bond. And who better for this job than Torben, the Dutch rat farmer? With James Bond’s trademark long greasy hair and fish suspenders, Torben brings a little extra special orthodontist flair by way of a shaved jaw and inverted chin. Dr. Wendell Plant of West Terracotta, Indiana, will spend his whole retirement party giggling with the other orthodontists, ecstatic that they now have a face mystery to solve but no moral imperative to treat it.

Seanbaby: Indiana orthodontists! And their families! I bring you another face mystery! I have played my Very Loose Interpretation of Tiger Woods Card on your Roger Moore’s Cousin Arrested for Swamp Vagrancy Mugshot Card. I understand it’s a futile gesture. I’ve lost this round; your guy is incredible. When Torben tells the retirement party he’s there as a Roger Moore impersonator, they will have a thousand questions. “Who hired you for this, and why?” “Roger Moore, the actor!?” “What is that fluid dripping from you?” When Angelo tells people he’s Tiger Woods, he’ll already be screaming the second half of that sentence at a Staybridge Suites security guard.

Anyway, congratulations, you get one lookalike point.

It’s finally happening for Bridgette. How will our two glorious masters of lookalike celebrate her love?

Brockway: Ladies love Robert Pattinson, with his waifish features and his waifish demeanor and his waifish little outfits, like a mischievous pixie pranking a college professor. I get it: Some women just want a man they feel comfortable taking in a fistfight. So I put forth Jon Fox. He doesn’t look anything like Robert Pattinson, he looks like he’s one trunk search away from being branded the Tire Iron Murderer, but he works all bridal showers pro bono, saying “the smells are my paycheck.”

Seanbaby: The only things women love more than a drifter with the same number of faces as Robert Pattinson are two sad, filthy Bruce Willi. “You fuckin’ white women sit down and take your talkin’ to, wait, this is a Bruce Willis gig, I meant to say… I see dead people,” says Terry Whiteman who is normally a Bill Burr.

Dave Cooke sweeps the room with his gun. “I see them too!! Who’s Bruce Willis!?” he screams. They are the last words anyone at the bridal shower hears. Police are on the lookout for a Bruce Willis, a Robert Pattinson, and a Bruce Willis, and they will never find them because that is an absurd way to describe these three men.

Point Brockway.

We weren’t invited, children, but don’t worry– we brought these exciting and almost celebrities.

Brockway: Roger Goold brings two things all kids love: Star Wars and balding. And baby? Roger Goold is all out of Star Wars. He’s got a flair about him that I can’t place, but I love. He plays harmonica in a Bob Seger cover band, so four out of five songs he just stands off-stage tapping his foot and they usually forget to thank him at the end of the set. He looks like Mandy Patinkin on Halloween, 1999. He’s the third phase of Qui-Gon Jinn animorphing into a quokka.

Seanbaby: I counter your wrongly-faced Star Wars Prequel character with an even more wrongly-faced Star Wars Prequel character– this blurry, distant photo of a guy named Samuel on his way to golf! This looks like a bit from a Detroiters commercial for “Near-Sighted Frank’s Racist Ass Lookalike Agency.” This looks like a man who said, “What? I don’t look like Samuel L. Jackson, you ignorant fuck. I’m here for the IT job,” during his interview. “And if anyone uses this picture of me in the future for a celebrity lookalike game, tell them they lost this round!” Oh. Damn it.

Two loving husbands invite their wives to a romantic dinner. How will they make it a sort of star-studded one?

Brockway:

“Honey, for our anniversary, I got you the greatest gift of all. Something every woman wants… Mike Cox.”

“Fuck you. Take this seriously.”

[opens the bedroom door]

“Oh! Oh.”

Seanbaby: Oh, man. I went in a way different direction. My wife is so fucking pissed. No, don’t cry, Ian. It’s not your fault. I mean, you are a working Kevin Spacey impersonator in 2024, so some of this is your faul– okay, yeah, you can take the rest of this food home.

You win this one. I am really losing this game.

Set sail for the skies, where there are no laws! No limits to your celebrity dreams!

Brockway:

“Darling, because you were so generous on our anniversary, I decided to get you a little something special for your birthday.”

“Oh!”

“A hot air balloon ride.”

“Oh.”

“With Mike Cox.”

“OH.”

Seanbaby:

“Honey, our balloon ride is today. Tell me you didn’t hire another sex offender lookalike.”

“How am I the sex crime lookalike guy after one Kevin Spacey?”

“He just seemed like the start of a running bit.”

“Gulp.”

“Why did you just gulp? Why is there 30% of a Woody Allen waiting for us in that balloon?”

“. . .”

“Tell Robert he won another round.”

Slap! It’s the sound, and the overly wordy description of Dana White’s premiere new fighting sport! Which superstar lookalikes will our boys bring?

Brockway: Nice try, Frank Stallone. Nobody was booking him when he advertised as “Frank Stallone lookalike Frank Stallone,” so I don’t blame him for the deception. Even kids are wildly disappointed when you promise a Sylvester Stallone impersonator for their Bat Mitzvah and his fucking brother comes and lives on their couch for six weeks. But not the Power Slap World Championships. It’s the only place in the world that still considers Frank Stallone a “get.” They’d seat him front and center, right next to Andy Dick and Fred Dudikoff.

Seanbaby: I think this round might be a tie. Because you’re not going to believe this– my plus one for the Power Slap World Championships is also a used Frank Stallone candle! Screaming his mighty Rambo battle cry of “No refunds, I’m sorry!”

I thought going into this article the bit was going to be us ruining these events with bad lookalikes, but two Turkish Frank Stallones telling you legally they can only answer to “Ranbar” is the least tragic thing at the Power Slap World Championships. Speaking of, our next event is…

With only moments to spare before the hospital finds out the Power Slap World Champion has no health insurance, nor a credit card, nor a valid piece of identification, Seanbaby and Brockway must rush to deliver a lookalike to his recovery room!

Brockway: If you’re recovering from acute brain displacement, nothing would pick you up like Leonidas kicking open the door to your hospital room and yelling that when your optic nerve explodes you slap in the shade. I know Marcus only looks like Gerard Butler when viewed from above, at a specific angle and when framed on a Russian grandmother’s stairs – but the Power Slap World Champion doesn’t. He only knows pudding time is exciting and uh ohs make warm.

Seanbaby: I see your Gerard Butler sleeping in a nursing home staircase and raise you one Blackface Sammy Davis Junior. Unspeakable to you and me, but I think Dana White and a divorced drug addict dying of a face hematoma would call Ray Ballard’s decisions “bold” and “a throwback to before woke ruined Sammy Davis Junior impersonators.”

Brockway: Holy shit, is that really a Blackface Sammy Davis Junior? My faith in humanity wants to think it’s a skin disease.

Seanbaby: I’m pretty sure? God damn it, now I have to look up Blackface Sammy Davis Junior.

…

Oh, fuck.

He’s very real. Blackface Sammy Davis Junior walks among us! And in 2016 he put on a 2 hour and 33 minute “night in vegas with the rat pack” for one (1) person! Or I guess we should say “missing person” now.

I did it, I w-

Brockway: You don’t need to say it. I know.

As our flimsy consecrations are undone by the touch of the hunter’s moon, three men prepare to honor their dark god with a sacrifice most foul! Which celebrity lookalike will Sean and Robert bring along?

Brockway: I don’t think Quentin Tarantino is relevant to this scenario, I just think Max Knight is one of the three robed men planning a murder.

Seanbaby: I hate to one-up your ritual murder, gentlemen, but meet this Ricky Gervais impersonator.

…

Fine, your point.

A murder thwarted, a dark ritual undone, our heroes take their celebrity lookalikes to a dog show!

Brockway: An unauthorized local dog show would be the biggest gig the real Alex Baldwin ever booked. I’m pretty sure this guy bought Frank Stallone’s MLM VHS Alternate Careers for the Celebrity Adjacent. He legally changed his name from Alex Baldwin to Pauk Hull just so he could book Alex Baldwin lookalike gigs without clients worrying the real Alex Baldwin would show up and steal their recycling. I’m sorry, I’m trying to say this is the real Alex Baldwin. I’m aware that person does not exist. I stand by it.

Seanbaby: Hi, Alex Baldwin. You are real! Have you met Grade School Librarian Elton John? He is not a divorced grandmother getting her real estate agent headshots. He is Elton John, not a Car Toys franchise owner after winning a burger challenge. He is not a bubble magician’s indecent exposure mugshot, he is Elton John. He pivoted to this after Rod Roddy died.

Round to Brockway.

Anyone can afford a vacation home, and your arrival and departure days are as flexible as our payment plans. Oh, i-is that…? Who is that you have with you?

Brockway: These meetings are so awkward. Yes, I need a free blender and do not value the remaining hours of my life. But I have a negative credit rating and I’m selling that blender for bus fare back to the city. The timeshare salesman will never accept that. It’s hard to make a graceful exit. Instead, I bring Carl Chetty along. When the pitch gets too aggressive, I just use his special rattle to call him out from behind the water cooler so he can tell them in a perfectly normal voice “I’m Mr. Bean.” They’re usually so confused I can slip out with an extra blender, and that’s called profit.

Seanbaby: Guy Combes is used to hearing people beg. “Whatever that is, please stop,” they plead. To their god they pray, “Please, Lord, let that be a Pauly Shore impersonator. An Ice Capades Mindfreak, anything.” But in their hearts they know. A forgotten, prehistoric sense warns them– RUSSELL BRAND Lookalike. This is both a throwaway character you’d meet in a holding cell during an ’80s comedy, and the most accurate lookalike we’ve summoned today. This Russell Brand could walk right into Joe Rogan’s office with a paper bag full of panties and Joe would hide them, no questions asked.

I can already hear what Carl Chetty’s Mr. Bean would say, clearly and perfectly enunciated: “You definitely won this round, Seanbaby.”

Brockway: …

Devastation! The Power Slap World Champion has passed away from just so many things. How will these Lords of Lookalike honor his sacrifice?

Brockway: This is a great national tragedy, and that nation is Moldova. Still, nothing less would do than a somber, dignified appearance from the most somber and dignified President. I bring all subspecies of Trump lookalikes. From left: I bring the man with the self confidence to call himself Donald Trump 6 when none of the others are numbered. I bring Dr. Wendell Plant after he realizes there’s nothing to fill his retirement days. I bring the haunted Trump from a Norwegian art film about how death comes for us all. I bring Jay Leno Max Headroom. And I bring Dr. Jerry Funk, who betrayed Dr. Wendell Plant’s friendship and stole his idea – kickstarting the orthodontic Trump clone rivalry that would tear West Terracotta’s second finest senior living community apart. I bring you all of these men – a parade of Trumps walking single-file past the Power Slap World Champion, each of them pointing at the closed casket and saying “you’re fired” in a different, unidentifiable accent.

RIP Cobra Steak, you’re slapping angels in heaven now.

Seanbaby: I’m fucked. You’ve invaded the funeral of a slap hero with an army of subTrumps, and the best lookalike I can field is this grouchy Huey Lewis holding a gilded pomegranate juice. Your lookalike agency is so stacked with imitation talent. I lost this 9 to 2! How did you rig a game I designed?

Brockway: I didn’t even use these-

Seanbaby: My god. Strawweight Tyson. Trevor Gandhi. Not-Even-Close Jackie Chan. The Never-Era Justin Timberlake. Hunk Tiger Woods. These are breathtaking.

Brockway: Shut up. I’m not done.

Seanbaby: This whole game you had a Hitler and a Cosby? A 50-Year-Old Virgin Keanu? Gus Scissors as Chris Rock Lookalike as Chris Rock Lookalike? The Christian Jesus, a double Mother T(h)eresa, and… is that…? No. It can’t be! You son of a bitch, you were holding your own Blackface Sammy Davis Jnr card!

Brockway: I didn’t want to take it from you. It was the only point you ever had.

Seanbaby: What about Flamenco Dancer Russell Brand?

Brockway: Flamenco Dancer Russell Brand has already been disqualified for something that looks like a sex crime if you squint.