Look, we like kids as much as any other bachelor (priests excluded), but there should probably be some sort of law about acceptable names for infants. Things began sliding off the rails 100+ years ago with the birth of Ima Hogg (who, contrary to popular belief, did not have a sister named Ura). Decades later came Dweezil Zappa. And of course, Soleil Moon Frye. But the universal scales probably weren't tipped until the birth of Bronx Mowgli Wentz.
We're sure that Bronx is a perfectly nice kid. And frankly, father Pete (see 'em behind the link) seems like exactly the sort of guy we'd go drinking with. (Mom? Eh, not so much.) But something in the ether is clearly not happy with the family's decision to name their child after a fictional character who hangs out with monkeys and snakes and bears, oh my. Yesterday the nanny took a hit in the fender of the Wentz family's Lexus RX. Sound familiar? Tomorrow, who knows: Child's Play come to life?
Seriously, is there anything really wrong with Michael? Or John? Or even Peter Junior? Okay, maybe not Peter, since that opens the kid up to years of playground ribbing -- but then, would that be any worse than Mowgli? Please, people, do something before the universe has its way!
P.S. Ashlee, if you're reading this: your name isn't exactly cheering Mother Nature up. To our bloodshot eyes, it looks a little weird and unfinished -- you know, like a certain rhinoplasty? So while y'all are at the courthouse, why not grab an extra form or two?