If you look at a TV series enough times, you’ll start to notice a few things. After watching the complete series of The Golden Girls at least 12,897 times (that number is accurate, by the way), I’ve concluded the one thing that many Golden Girls aficionados fail to realize: Rose Nylund is a murderer. A ruthless, vicious murderer.
Understand, though, that Rose doesn’t claim her victims like other murderers typically do by using common weapons such as guns, knives, or poison, nor does she implore on her victims torture methods like waterboarding or listening to Radio Disney. Rose Nylund just uses Rose Nylund.
Let’s examine the evidence.
Charlie Nylund, Rose’s late husband, died of a heart attack before Rose moved to Miami from St. Olaf, Minnesota. But he bought the farm while he and Rose were, you know, getting it on. There is no indication that Charlie had any kind of medical condition or any life-threatening heart problems that would cause an attack, plus he was only 51 years old. So it’s apparent that she murdered him.
Seriously? Why would a sweet thing like Rose kill her beloved Charlie?
Good question. Maybe she needed the insurance money. Maybe she got sick of looking at Charlie every morning. Maybe, in an ironic twist, Charlie was the one who recounted way too many useless St. Olaf stories, and she just snapped. One good thrust of her hips during the heat of the moment and Bam! just like that, Charlie is gone, and it’s all because of Rose.
That’s just a coincidence! Plenty of people croak while making love to their (unfortunate) significant others. Right?
Right. It happens. But to have two people die in pretty much the same manner while they had sex with the same person (not simultaneously, obviously)? A coincidence? I don’t think so.
A similar incident happened to Al Beatty from Boca Raton. Rose, normally a wholesome woman with high morals, sneaks Al into her bedroom one night for some good ol’ geriatric loving. The next morning, he’s lying in her bed, deader than dead is dead. (Ha! I just rhymed, y’all.)
Later, we learn that Al is married and has cheated on his wife their entire marriage. And when Rose discovers that tidbit, she’s all like, “Oh, I didn’t know he was married! All I did was sneak him into the house and bang his brains out. I would never knowingly sleep with a married man. I’m from Minnesota!” (OK, she didn’t actually say most of those things, but whatever.)
Right! Rose Nylund would never destroy the sanctity of marriage by sleeping with someone else’s husband. That guy was a creep and took advantage of poor Rose!
Perhaps. But maybe Rose did know that Al was married, and, in a fit of rage, decided to go in for the kill. Literally.
And let’s not forget that Rose has a nasty, competitive spirit. She was probably jealous that Mrs. Beatty and pretty much every other woman over 50 in Miami had slept with Al, thus deciding that if she couldn’t have Al to herself, then no other woman, including his wife, could. Yes, please, and thank you.
Big deal! Obviously Rose is “that chick” in bed, and Charlie and Al just couldn’t handle all that sex awesomeness. Plus, Rose “dated” other men, and they all survived.
Touché. But remember Mrs. Claxton? Yeah, Rose killed her, too. (And, as I recall, she and Rose did not have sexual relations, thank-you-very-much.)
In the episode “It’s a Miserable Life,” the girls want to preserve a 200-year old oak tree, which is on the property of nearby neighbor Mrs. Frieda Claxton, an old, misanthropic battle-axe. Everyone in the neighborhood—except Mrs. Claxton—signs a petition to save the tree. At a public hearing, Mrs. Claxton says she hates trees and insists that the city go on with plans to tear down the oak tree in place of a sidewalk. Here’s how the rest of it goes down:
ROSE (innocently to CLAXTON): Mrs. Claxton, think about what you’re doing. That beautiful old tree is 200 years old. How can you hate a living thing?
CLAXTON: I hate you.
ROSE (now in complete anger): That’s it! I have had all I’m going to take from you! Now if you don’t have the common decency to treat people like human beings, well, then, I’m sure as hell not going to waste my time kissing your fanny! Now if you don’t like it, Mrs. Claxton, you just sit there and SHUT UP while we have our say. And if you don’t like it, just DROP DEAD! Go on Dorothy.
CLAXTON grabs her chest and falls on the floor. The courtroom erupts in shock and awe as people clamor to see CLAXTON lying on the ground, presumably dead.
DOROTHY: What happened?
SOPHIA (to ROSE): You know when you told her to “drop dead”?
ROSE (worried and shaken): Yeah?
SOPHIA: I think she did!
Oh my. Well, there is it, proof that Rose Nylund really is a murderer. But she’s my favorite Golden Girl! My God, I’m a devoted fan of a stone cold killer. Is that normal?
No, it is not. But that’s OK, as I and a multitude of others are fans of Rose as well.
Nonetheless, there’s a lesson to be learned here: Never piss off the sweet ones, ‘cause, you know, they might end up killing you—and you’ll never see it coming.