Okay, the movie geek has to throw in on this one…
First, a general principle:
This, I think, accounts for some of those little annoyances, like how there’s a convenient parking space right where the hero needs to go, or how nobody ever has to reload their weapon, or whatever. William Goldman, in his new book on screenwriting Which Lie Did I Tell? (a sequel to Adventures in the Screen Trade; both are highly recommended), goes into this topic with some depth. His point is this: What is the scene about? If it’s about Mel Gibson going into the courthouse to confront the bad guy, then storytelling efficiency demands that we get him there as quickly as possible. There’s no point wasting five minutes showing him circling the parking lot, looking for a space, even if that’s “realistic.” Me, I question why it’s even necessary to show him parking in the first place; just have him drive past, thereby establishing the exterior, and then cut inside as he walks in. We the audience will fill in the blank – he had to have just parked – but we don’t need any more information than that to follow what’s going on. Solves both problems at once.
The only movie I’ve seen where this really started to work was Broken Arrow, where Christian Slater is in the canyon while the helicopter circles, and he has to frantically reload or he’s dead. Unfortunately, Slater’s such a weak actor that he doesn’t capture the urgency, and the moment doesn’t play. Still, it’s a moment worth stretching a lot more than Hollywood does.
You forgot to mention that if the missile gets from the planet to the sun in the ten or twelve seconds it appears to, then the missile has to be flying at something like seventy-five times the speed of light. 
Again, artistic license. I would assert that if those sounds were missing, the movie would, paradoxically, seem less realistic. For example: I just saw a movie where someone across the room took out a cell phone and pressed the activation button. On the soundtrack, of course, we heard the faint honky beep of the phone coming on, even though, realistically, we really shouldn’t be able to hear it. I hold that if the effect hadn’t been there, we would subconsciously wonder if the phone was actually working, or be jarred in noticing it was just a non-functional prop. Ditto for almost everything else you mention, though naturally the cat meows and car horns get annoying if you really pay attention to them. Most people don’t notice; in fact, I think, more people would notice if they weren’t there. By way of illustration, go check out a really badly dubbed foreign film, where none of the environmental sounds are included, and all that’s on the soundtrack are voices and primary sounds (gunshots, doorknobs, etc.). It’s really flat and weird.
This happens in The Usual Suspects, too. Early on, when we see the passenger jet landing, as it’s coming toward the camera, it’s a big four-engine widebody; then when the angle switches around, it’s a completely different airplane. Watch the DVD with director commentary turned on, and Bryan Singer and Chris McQuarrie (the writer) get a huge laugh out of it.
Compare similar moments: In Romancing the Stone, when the Michael Douglas character swings across the ravine, the rock wall he slams into is obviously foam. And in Star Wars, when Han Solo dives into the trash chute, his foot brushes the blown-open grill, and the foam bar wiggles.
Somebody else already mentioned that this is in fact not an error, but didn’t explain why. The command to turn a given direction specifically refers to the rudder. Turn the rudder port, and the ship goes starboard, and vice versa. Cameron supposedly argued with other people on the crew as to whether or not this would be confusing, but left it historically accurate. If it were me, I wouldn’t have shown it at all; I would have cut down to people on the deck, looking at the iceberg, and skipped the order, and then cut back to the guy spinning the wheel.
There are tons of gaffes like this in Raiders. For me, the most distracting is the length of the staff. The old translator says it should be a certain number of “kadan” high, and Indy says, about 72 inches. Then the translator says, “take back one kadan.” So the staff should be around six feet long. But when we see Indy in the map room, the staff is like eight feet tall. Oops!
This is true. Originally, back in the golden days of cinema, the title was “script girl.” Sexist, yes, but given that the job was primarily secretarial (Actress A has a blue scarf, thrown over left shoulder; in the car, Actor B is on the left in the back seat; he put his sunglasses in his front pocket, not inside the jacket; etc.), it was traditionally done by a woman. In the 60’s, this title was changed to, simply, “continuity.” A while later, as special effects got more complicated, and the production needed to keep track of not just what someone was wearing or which side got the black-eye makeup, but also which foot a character was stepping with when they entered a room and all sorts of other details, the title was changed again, to “script supervisor.” Look for it in the credits.
They make fun of this phenomenon (which happens a lot) in Top Secret!, by the Airplane! guys. Val Kilmer has a fight underwater, and he literally stands up out of the water, dry. They did it by having him stand there dry, and then bend down into the water, and run the film backwards; it’s pretty subtle, but very funny.
Very true. When you look through a big Hollywood camera (or the video-tap monitor alongside), there are black lines indicating how the shot will be framed when the top and bottom edges are cut off. The film frame includes lots of extraneous material, but, as you observe, when it’s cropped, that stuff mostly disappears. If the projectionist screws up, though, that stuff slides back down on screen. To be fair, it is occasionally the filmmakers’ error; there was an episode of "The