Downey, Kidder and Heche.  One of them beat to death the golden retriever they'd been hired to recover, as I recall.

I've been plowing through Swartzwelder's novel(la?)s, and I agree.

I'd say he hates the constant reminders that the law still constrains him in small ways.  Murder and civil torts, mostly.

As Rabin points out, most of them are also hilarious in the level of maturity the tots are able to muster in their baby talk.

Herb's declaration to his fellow hobos that in America, all one needs is an idea (and some seed money) to climb out of the gutter and achieve greatness— well, is there a German word for something simultaneously uplifting and sad?

I first read that last sentence as "Nerds are the belligerent ones".  No offense, Ambassador, but I like my hallucinated sentence better.

"Disingenuous mountebanks with their subliminal chicanery! A pox on them!"

My local bar still has the soundtrack on the jukebox.  I fear I'm getting tired of Big Bottom.

Springfieldians rioting at a Herb Alpert concert: one of the greatest animated sequences never to be seen in our time.

I wish I'd grown out of the days when "Wow, I have mustard?!" was something I recognized in my own life.  Right now the contents of my fridge are four beer bottles and a jar of salsa.  There's vodka in the freezer, but I'm out of tomato juice.

Toby has a crush on her. That's good enough for me.

Her comparison of a typical internet comment board to the cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is inspired.

Lord Marbury
I'm shocked that the review didn't bring up the most excellent pairing of Marbury and Toby. Playing his usual role of drunken fop won't stop John from being a tenacious, competent agent of the crown, and Toby isn't quite sure how to handle him.

Sideshow Bob would have to be a favorite character to write for. Aside from Lisa— and Homer under the influence of "building your word power"— there are so few opportunities to unpack one's vocabulary.

I comment informally now, by affidavit later. Time permitting.
Bob's finest lines always revolve around his contempt for, as Jay Sherman would put it, "things that bring happiness to idiots". Whenever I spot a pack of obese children waddling through a major airport I recall Bob's musings on flight.