I’d like to thank my fellow members of the Academy for giving me this award when I’m 64 years old and have been directing films since the 1960s, for a film, The Departed, which — while a terrific film — let’s face it, isn’t exactly my greatest work. So yeah, thanks so much for this, which isn’t too little, too late at all, and totally makes up for the fact that the year I made Taxi Driver you gave Best Director and Best Picture to fucking Rocky. Yeah, that was a real tough one to direct. It also makes up for four years later when you showered statuettes on Robert Redford and Ordinary People despite that fact that I was also nominated for a little film you may have heard of entitled Raging Bull. Water under the bridge.
And the fact that I’ve won the Oscar for Best Director this year, the sixth time I’ve been nominated by my esteemed colleagues, totally washes away the chagrin and humiliation of having to be there in the Shrine Auditorium in 1991 and watch Kevin Costner — fucking Kevin Costner, now — walk up onstage and collect the Oscar for Best Director for his buffalo chip Dances With Wolves, while I, the director of Goodfellas, sat there holding my dick. No, really it means a lot.
Now I, the greatest American filmmaker of the last fifty years, can go to my grave content in the fact that I won a single fucking Academy Award in my whole career. Boy, won’t Hitchcock and Kubrick be jealous when I get there. Thanks for the fucking consolation Oscar, you fucks.