I drove 200 miles... each way.

I went to my parents' house today. Got to see my nephew, who is awesome. He is two years old, and has already developed a concept of separation, along with a heartbreaking facial expression to accompany it. I had to make a few practice good-byes just to get him used to the idea that I was going to leave him; I think he took it well.... eventually.

I also saw Brokeback Mountain. With my mother. Yeah.

It is Superbowl Sunday, so the theater was pretty empty. (If you want a review of the movie, you can find one here or you can go see it yourself. I'm not a movie reviewer, so I'll be talking about the audience.) Every showing of that film is required, by law, to contain at least one gay man whose date is his mother. Check.

Everyone else in the theater consisted of three elderly couples who honestly couldn't think of a better thing to do on Superbowl Sunday than go see Brokeback Mountain, and in one case, sit right in front of the legally mandated gay-man-and-his-mother couple. Bastards. Still, like everyone else in the theater, they would rather see openly gay cowboys than closeted gay football players (which, I assume, is all of them), so they can't be chalked up as all bad. I expect, though, every single couple who watched the film had the following conversation in the car home:

Her: So, Stanley, what were you really doing on those fishing trips? (Sarcastic chuckle)
Him: Damnit, Mildred, you think everyone's gay ever since those Queer Eye boys came on the TV.

This, I believe, illustrates an important point: All elderly couples are named Stanley and Mildred.

Okay, I can't resist talking a little about the movie. I will limit my comments to two questions and one answer:

Q. How do you take a 20-page short story, and make it into a two and a half hour movie?
A. Have one line of dialogue every fifteen minutes.

Q. What the hell was up with Heath Ledger's face? Was he chewing on a popsicle stick, or what?