Murder Me Twice (aka-The Man Who Was Murdered Twice)

Standard of California, on behalf of independent chevron gas stations and standard stations throughout the West, invites you to let George do it. Another adventure of George Valentine. Personal notice, danger is my stock and trade.

If it's way over your head and you need discreet confidential help, call on me, George Valentine. Write full details. My dad Valentine has a newspaperman and dramatic critic. I've seldom been wrong. When I have been, the public has preferred my Polish civilized verdict on a play to the clumsy mouthing of my colleagues.

For be that as it may, I've discovered a man of the fellows cutting on a fabulous masquerade and must be exposed. I need facts, and you can get them from it. I suggest... I get attacked to meet my office so we can arrange an appointment.

Sign Jonathan Thorpe. Jonathan Thorpe. Oh, just a minute, Brooksie. Why is this morning's paper? Where it always is after you read the sports page? No way, it's Baskin. Now, here's the great man's column. Today's theater by Jonathan Thorpe.

Oh, the last time he had a kind word for a play or an actor, he used the rest of the column to apologize. Yeah, well, burn the incense angel. I'm about to read some of Thorpe's deathless prose, I quote.

Since it's opening two weeks ago, I have been repeatedly warning the unsuspecting public against that dramatic abomination now holding forth the majestic theater. A win from the prairie by Luke Eberhard could be more aptly titled a breeze from the stockyard.

Then's Hoshworth's partner. What this play lacks in dramatic instruction it makes up for and sheer illiteracy. Out of sweet charity's sake I say nothing about the inane high school performance of Mark Guilford, the alleged leading man.