Silverman: Technically he has more license to talk about black people. I mean, he does totally racist jokes about black people. That's why on The Chris Rock Show, he had the most racist writers. They're the best writers for Chris. I think he's brilliant. Traditionally, I have no right to talk about race. I'm white; I didn't grow up in an all-black neighborhood. But the license I see for myself is I'm a member of the world.
Slate: Do you self-Google?
Silverman: Yeah, of course. I bet you self-Google. Everyone self-Googles. And, I have, of course, the Google alert. But I don't have the time lately to read it. I'm actually losing interest in Googling myself. I'm so sick of myself after these past couple of months.
Slate: How often do you write?
Silverman: I don't have a routine. If I have a deadline, I'm really good. I've always been someone who got my homework assignment done immediately, before I even got home from school. I'd find every pocket of time. But when I don't have a deadline, I'm lazy like every writer.
Slate: There was a bit in The New Yorker about your having notes around your house, and one that said "stubbed my vagina."
Silverman: I feel so awful because [the writer] looked around my place and wrote that down and of all the things in the world, I didn't write that! It's hilarious, but please write this—the guys I wrote this pilot with for Comedy Central—one of them, Dan Harmon, wrote that. It's a line in the pilot.
Slate: What's the premise of the pilot?
Silverman: It's a one-camera sitcom. I play the version of myself that's in the movie [Jesus Is Magic].
Slate: The "version of yourself" that's in the movie?
Silverman: Yeah. I actually think of it as a character. I mean, I don't have a weird voice or always have to be angry. I'm completely myself on stage. I talk the way I talk and I move the way I move, but inside, I think she's—She! That's so obnoxious! I—I'm more ignorant, yet arrogant.