Sarah Silverman

Sarah Silverman

3:00 pm, September 14th, 2013

VIDEO

(FX)

Sarah Silverman says that jokes about her age during the recent Comedy Central Roast of James Franco legitimately hurt her.

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In an appearance on “Totally Biased,” the comedian told host W. Kamau Bell that even though she would “die defending people’s right to say anything,” she felt the sting of the disses aimed at her age, in part because of her gender.

“I wish so much that that didn’t cut me to the core, I don’t want young girls to see me hurt by jokes about age,” explained Silverman.

She continued, “I feel like… A woman gets to an age where she has opinions and she’s vital and she’s strong, [and] she’s systematically shamed into hiding under a rock. And this is by progressive pop culture people! You know what I mean? It’s really odd.”

“I feel bad that it cut me,” continued Silverman, adding that she wished she could brush it off.

She observed, “Your joke is that I’m alive. My crime is not dying.”

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Truth rating: 10

Sarah Silverman

9:11 pm, September 5th, 2013

(WhoSay)

Sarah Silverman might be known for being edgy on stage, but the comedian has a big heart.

She showed it with a touching tribute to her beloved dog Duck, who died this week.

Silverman explained that Duck, whom she had rescued from a shelter and estimated to be about 19 years old, had recently been in poor health, and told the story of how she had to put him to sleep after years of companionship.

“He was my best friend,” wrote the comic.

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I wrote an obituary type thing:

Duck “Doug” Silverman came into my life about 14 years ago.

He was picked up by the State running through South Central with no collar, tags or chip. Nobody claimed or adopted him so a no-kill shelter took him in.

That’s where I found him — at that shelter, in Van Nuys. Since then we have slept most every night together (and many lazy afternoons.) When we first met, the vet approximated his age at 5 ½ so I’d say he was about 19 as of yesterday, September 3, 2013.

He was a happy dog, though serene. And stoic. And he loved love.

Over the past few years he became blind, deaf, and arthritic. But with a great vet, good meds, and a first rate seeing-eye person named me, he truly seemed comfortable.

Recently, however, he stopped eating or drinking. He was skin and bones and so weak. I couldn’t figure out this hunger strike. Duck had never been political before. And then, over the weekend, I knew. It was time to let him go.

My boyfriend Kyle flew in late last night and took the day off from work to be with us. We laid in bed and massaged his tiny body, as we love to do – hearing his little “I’m in heaven” breaths.

The doctor came and Kyle, my sister, Laura and I laid on the bed. I held him close – in our usual spoon position and stroked him. I told him how loved he was, and thanked him for giving me such happiness and for his unwavering companionship and love. The doctor gave him a shot and he fell asleep, and then another that was basically an overdose of sleeping meds. I held him and kissed him and whispered to him well passed his passing. I picked him up and his body was limp – you don’t think about the head – it just falls. I held him so tight. And then finally, when his body lost its heat, and I could sense the doctor thinking about the imminent rush hour traffic, I handed him over.

14 years.
My longest relationship.
My only experience of maternal love.
My constant companion.
My best friend.
Duck.

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