Sarah Silverman: I grew up in New Hampshire and, um, we lived right next door to the farm, you know, where everybody got their meat and their vegetables and everything. So, when I was six, my dad brought me over there to pick out our Thanksgiving turkey, and the farmer, Vic, told me to look at all the turkeys carefully and choose the one I liked.
Sarah Silverman: I looked around and I'm, like, checking them all out and they're so cute, you know, they're like pecking at, uh, uh, grain, but it's like mixed in with their sh*t. Like they sh*t, they sh*t where they eat. I found a cute one. I found the cutest one and he was like, waddling and he had personality, and, uh, he kinda had a quirk, almost like an adorable tick. I pointed to him and I said 'that one, I want that one' and before my pointing finger even dropped back down to my side, Mr. Villino had grabbed the bird I chose and, and chopped his head off.
Sarah Silverman: Just like that. Blood spraying out of his neck hole, the wings still flapping, you know, making some futile attempt to un-kill itself or something. I had sentenced this turkey to death at six years old. It was horrifying. You know, I don't think it was the turkey's top five moments, either. So, my dad insists that he has no recollection of this.
Donald Silverman: Sarah, as I recall, I took you to Vic Villino's farm because they were gonna slaughter a cow. You may wanna know why I did it, I have no fu**ing idea why I did it. It was a beautiful fall day near Thanksgiving, the leaves were mostly all fall, had, uh, all fallen by now. And, you watched as he dragged the cow to be slaughtered. You watched the cow be slaughtered. Inside the cow was a fetus, which they gave to the biology class in Nashville, and you never ate meat again. It just made sense I should do it at the time, and after I did it, didn't make any sense.
Donald Silverman: And that's pretty much the story of the Thanksgiving cow. As I really don't totally remember it.
Sarah Silverman: I realized the true meaning of Thanksgiving, that the turkey we killed was a symbol of the Native Americans we killed. We're so grateful for their farming techniques that they taught us as we learned to harvest our own food on the land we took. We are giving thanks for being American. God bless America, and its greedy self-righteous heritage. Happy Thanksgiving dummies!