Sara(h) Smiles, Part 42: Cookies for the Haitians

I’m sure the lamestream media will think of a million ways to besmirch Sarah’s visit to Haiti this weekend. They’ll say she’s accompanying Franklin Graham, spawn of the famous evangelist Billy, on behalf of the Christian relief organization Samaritan’s Purse, just to make herself appear less parochial — and to get on the good side of those evangelicals who might otherwise support the cute-named Mike Huckabee as the Republican presidential nominee in 2012.

But let the lamestreamers make their ugly accusations; the earthquake- and cholera-ravaged African Americans in Port au Prince who have suffered so awfully this year will be no less grateful for the homemade cookies Sarah will reportedly offer them. And I wonder what those who accuse her of having no interest in the printed word will say when — because her firm belief is that the intellect craves nourishment as voraciously as does the body — she is seen autographing and distributing copies of her 2009 bestseller Goin’ Rogue that otherwise might have wound up humiliated on bookstore discount tables. The great irony being that Kreyol is one of the few languages into which the book hasn’t been translated.

Once finished at the Port au Prince Barnes & Noble — assuming it’s withstood the civil violence and frequent visits by Sean Penn that have ravaged the already-devastated city in recent weeks — Sarah and Frank, as he presumably permits close friends and powerful politicians to call him, are scheduled to head for a local cholera clinic, where Sarah will apparently attempt to evoke the martyred Princess Diana by holding up an ill infant for photographers.

As of this writing, it has not yet been confirmed that husband Todd and daughter Bristol will be accompanying the presumptive candidate and her new (not really that new, since she defended his assertion early in 2010 that our current president was born a Muslim) BFF Franklin on the visit to Haiti, though it is known that husband Todd had hoped to be able to bust a cap in the ass of a looter, or three.

The lamestreamers are sure to make a lot of racket about Our Gal’s apparently imminent first visit to the United Kingdom too, for purposes of communing with former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, whom she has described as one of her political idols in spite of having not knowing her from Becky Thatcher (in Tom Sawyer, you see) before John McCain’s thugs insisted in 2008 that she bone up on recent world history. Between now and then, someone presumably advised her that the so-called Iron Lady was a big favorite of her hero Ronald Reagan. Now if only someone would advise Sarah that Baroness Thatcher suffers from severe dementia, and that Sarah might be better advised to head for two other countries she’s gone on record as hoping to visit, Israel and Africa. Or it may be that Sarah is looking forward to chatting with a political leader, even a retired one, over whom she will be able to lord it intellectually.

If we were advising her, we would, on balance, suggest that she give the UK a wide berth. If Sarah and husband Todd have found the American tabloid press annoying, there are no words for what they will find its British equivalent. British newsstands are full of magazines devoted to photographs of celebrities with dark spots under their arms, or cellulite, or herpes blisters. The comperes (that is, hosts) of their late-night television chat (that is, talk) shows are either cheeky (that is, brazen and irreverent) or pompous, and unlikely to be mesmerized (that is, mesmerized) by Sarah’s spunk and charm. And to them, the word spunk means something very different from what it means to hard-working, average Americans, and indolent rich ones alike.