Yum-O!, Dept.

"Rachael Ray Serves Up Prom After Tornado

ENTERPRISE, Ala. (AP) - Rachael Ray made sure the students who lost eight classmates and their school in a tornado got a senior prom.

The celebrity chef planned the menu and helped prepare dinner at Enterprise High School's prom, according to a statement Thursday from publicist Georgianna Dente. The star of the syndicated 'Rachael Ray' coordinated donations for the dance, which was shot for an episode to air April 30.

'The students of Enterprise High are so courageous, given all that they've gone through,' Ray, 38, said in the statement. 'When I heard about what happened to their school and classmates, we wanted to help.'"

OMG! Ray-Ray, that is just so mega-fucking-sweet of you! To feed these poor kids your EZ-to-make, five-meals-in-30-minutes koo-ee-zeen. And I am so glad you were able to capture this whole selfless act on tape to air on your how-cool-is-that?! syndicated show!!

I mean, sure, Matthew 6:1-4 talks some nonsense like,

"'Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.

'So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.'"

Yeah, right. Like, what did Jesus know about carrying a publicist with you like a spare tampon in your purse? You never know when you'll need it, sweetie, am I right? And good deeds done in secret ain't moving books (or copies of your faboo mag--luvvv it!), so I totally get where you're coming from.

So, yeah, let the boo-birds squawk. Let them ask if those kids hadn't suffered enough they should also have to endure your nasal yawping and blah "cooking" and self-absorbed grandstanding on their trauma. Let them ask if having you turn their prom and their lives and tragedy and healing into just another voyeuristic, ratings-grabbing pity-party (like that wonderful Extreme Makeover: Home Edition--I. cry. like. a. baby. every. time.) isn't rubbing salt (and EVOO, am I right?) in their wounds for your own benefit.

You're *Ray-Ray*, bay-bee; live the motherfucking dream.