Mr. Movie

My gravel-voiced stepfather, who never stays up past 10 p.m. unless he's out on the town at some cabaret or show, walks into the kitchen the morning after the Oscars. "How were the Academy Awards, babe?" he asks my mother.
She says, "They were pretty good, but we were really disappointed that Crash won for Best Picture."

He pours himself a cup of coffee.
"Oh, Crash. Was that that picture about Johnny Crash?"