Let’s just make this an all-Simpson Thanksgiving. First of all, it appears I’ve been spelling Ashlee Simpson’s name wrong this whole time. But apparently so did the cover of OK! Magazine, and now someone from the mag is getting fired because of how that dipshit spells her name. I should have figured that walking advertisement for nose jobs would have some kind of obnoxious spelling.

In other tales of predictable Simpson stupidity, Russian movie star Jessica recently visited a Nike store and asked the sales associate where the Adidas sweatpants were. When the store employee told here they were probably at the Adidas Store, Jessica thought he was joking.

Fuck. If there is one thing you would think Jessica could do right, it would be something like shopping. She probably goes to dollar-only stores and keeps asking the clerks how much everything is.

Anyway, everyone have a great Thanksgiving and feel better knowing that no matter how shit-faced you get tonight, you’ll still be smarter than the entire Simpson clan, except maybe Bronx.

I try not to post blogs about the same topic two days in a row, but Pete Wentz makes it so easy.

Today Wentz reacted to the “controversy” surrounding the name of the unfortunate child, Bronx Mowgli Wentz, that Ashley Simpson finally pooped out this week.

“I feel weird,” Wentz told Ryan Seacrest, “people have all these idea of what (the name) means now. I think it’s kind of cool to leave the narrative the way it is. People are stoked or pissed or whatever… I don’t think anybody knows the real story of why or how.”

He then goes on to compare the birth to some kind of Hollywood douche club: “It’s like opening a new spot in L.A. Everyone’s trying to get in every night– they’re like, ‘No, I know Pete, kind of.’”

So let me get this straight, there are people out there who are either pissed about the baby’s name, excited about the baby’s name, or so “stoked” that they are showing up at the Wentz household and lying just to lay eyes on the little turd? Yeah, right.

But if this is true, it makes me feel much better about my life of laying on the couch all day watching reruns of Sally Jesse Raphael and masturbating to Thighmaster commercials.

Famous people are so stupid. Even when they are being original, they’re just copying other famous people.

And so when you get two idiots together and they make a baby, they come up with names like Bronx Mowgli Wentz because it’s what everybody else is doing.

This is the actual name Ashley Simpson and Pete Wentz gate their child after they finally negotiated with the fetus and convinced it to come out. (And by “negotiated,” I mean ripped it from the womb. The little sucker held on tight too, I bet.)

It’s a new game! Take the place you were last arrested and you’re favorite Disney cartoon character and that’s your celebrity baby name!

Michael Jackson is being sued by Sheik Abdulla Bin Hamad Bin Isa Al-Khalifa. In Bahrain, everybody has that name.

Apparently the Sheik, son of the King of Bahrain, maintains that Jackson reneged on a recording contract for $7 million. Michael Jackson thought the money was simply a gift. Did it come with a card or something?

Also, according to testimony by one of Jackson’s former personal assistants, Michael does not have a bank account. Maybe Michael wants Peter Pan to take care of his money. In which case, my name is Peter Pan.

The bad news: Coldplay may be breaking up. The worst news: it’s still about a year away.

Lead singer, Chris Martin explains: “I’m 31 now, and I don’t think that bands should keep going past 33. So, we’re trying to pack in as much as possible. Up until the end of next year, we’ll just go for it in every sense.

“I don’t believe in time off. We’ve still got most of our hair, we can still fit into our musical trouser and we’ve got to make the most of that.”

My musical trousers play clown music. I’ve never been able to figure out why, but it’s pretty annoying.

Anybody who has seen The Real Housewives of Atlanta knows that Kim Zolciak has been meeting with super producer Dallas Austin in hopes of launching her career as a country singer.

Of the shows I’ve seen, she refuses to actually sing in front of anyone, but it’s pretty obvious her talent lies in gold digging. She has some mysterious anonymous boyfriend who buys her shit, but he’s smart enough to refuse to reveal his identity.

Well, Dallas Austin did the smart thing and denied everything on his MySpace blog:

“THE ‘REAL’ Housewife, Kim Zolciak, is NOT WORKING WITH ME — WE ARE NOT DOING A SONG… WE ARE NOT DOING AN ALBUM…”

Poor Kim, looks like she’ll have to work on “Tardy to the Party” all by herself.

On the Ellen DeGeneres Show, Jessica Simpson told Ellen that her sister, Ashley, was about to induce labor because the baby refuses to come out. I guess we know that the baby is already smatter than Jessica.  

“They’re going to have to. It’s already developing really quick,” said Jessica. Jessica then said that Ashley and her husband Pete Wentz have tried other ways to get the thing out: “Different foot massages and stuff. I don’t know. I think she’s really just jumping around trying everything right now.”

That’s how we do it where I’m from, Indiana. We make the pregnant women jump around until the baby falls out. If that doesn’t work, we give foot massages. If that doesn’t work, we induce labor via the trauma of having to listen to Ashley Simpson sing. Ironic.

Asked by the New Yorker in a recent interview about his thoughts on gay marriage and adoption, Prince tapped his Bible and said, “God came to earth and saw people sticking it wherever and doing it with whatever, and he just cleared it all out. He was, like, ‘Enough.’”

For the record, Prince became a Jehovah’s Witness seven years ago, but I don’t see that punk ass knocking on doors in West Hollywood.

And I wonder what God’s opinion of bad movies is. Because if I know anything, it’s that gay marriage doesn’t affect me, but seeing Graffiti Bridge on television makes me vomit diarrhea.  

Kanye West pulled himself away from his daily, 10-hour ritual of looking at himself in the mirror this week to tell everyone that he is the voice of our generation.

“I realize that my place and position in history is that I will go down as the voice of this generation, of this decade. I will be the loudest voice,” he said on Wednesday. “It’s me settling into that position of just really accepting that it’s one thing to say you want to do it and it’s another thing to really end up being like Michael Jordan.”

At least he got the loud part right. I think I’m going to go ahead and hope Barrack Obama is the voice of this generation, as I’m assuming our President Elect knows how to use a toilet.

And I’m going to go even further and declare myself the sense of smell for this generation. And it smells like a big, wet noodle.

Apparently, there aren’t younger, less manly women willing to sleep with Alex Rodriguez. Maybe A-Rod just likes them bat-shit crazy. Maybe he’s just drunk off whatever the hell they put in Kabbalah water. 

Or maybe this is the first time A-Rod’s ever been in love. Did you bastards ever think about that? My first girlfriend was over 500 pounds, had a mustache and went by the name George, but I loved that woman with all my heart. And all her friends could do was criticize and tell her that she could do better.

So, now that I think about it, I’m with A-Rod on this one. Besides Madonna recently told a friend that A-Rod “has the heart of a poet trapped inside an insanely gorgeous body.” Sounds like love to me, haters.

George once said that I had the brain of a chipmunk trapped inside the body of a pelican. I miss her so much.