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Wow. Oh boy. I wasn't going to prepare a speech, but my Aunt Faffy told me I'd jinx myself if I didn't. So, thanks, Space Girl! [Pause. Inhale deeply. Nod to Jack Nicholson.] I'd like to thank the Academy. I'd like to thank the fat, greasy, geezer actors I was nominated with. Just to be included in a group with you all is an honor. I'd like to thank my manager, Shlomo Blinkenstein, my agent, Ari, my stylist, and all the immensely talented people at New Line, Harvey Weinstein, Ling Ling, and Dr. Phil.
I'd also like to thank my parents, who supported me through a malaria attack. And Thora Birch, my one ... true ... love [gaze into audience]. Last, but certainly not least, we all just lost Mel Brooks, a truly quick visionary and ginormous soul. [Begin tearing.] I'd like us to take a moment to ... No! Stars and Stripes!! Don't start playing that music, I have 86 more people to go! My editor Bilo, my accountant Ira Rosensteinberg, my lawyer Marsha Clark, and my personal assistant Mitzi Gaynor, Josh at Minotaur Pictures. Brad Grey. When we started this project, sweaty butt cracks were something no one wanted to talk about. Victims of transgendered whaling, this is for you! Thank ...
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