You Couldn’t Make “The Golden Girls” Today, because Blanche is a Landlord.

Listen, nobody wants to see another revival/reboot of a classic sitcom anymore (Night Court? Does anyone care?). And, of course, no one would dream of trying to reboot The Golden Girls, one of the greatest sitcoms of all time. We could make so many points about how shows with live studio audiences don’t work anymore, as they now feel like actors just standing and delivering lines instead of actual characters. Or we could make the point that the chemistry of that original cast is impossible to recreate (Bea Arthur HATED Betty White, but could you tell?). But let’s get to the real reason why we couldn’t see a reboot of Golden Girls: it’s 2023 and Blanche is a shitty landlord.

Now we all love Blanche. She’s got that ridiculous Southern accent, she’s over-dramatic, she’s a proud slut. Many a young woman/gay man idolizes Blanche for her unashamed healthy sexuality. She’s the life of the party, someone who’s never afraid to have fun. There are plenty of things to love about Blanche. But there’s one giant flaw: she charges her best friends, her “sisters”, rent to live in her house.

Right from the get go, she promises the same room to Dorothy and Rose. When confronted about this, she shrugs and says “Whoops!”. Now if Dorothy and Rose were experienced renters in 2023 this serious lack of organization would be a giant red flag for their living situation. The landlord can’t keep track of her tenants? And she only has two? Run, girls.

Throughout the series Blanche shows more signs of shittiness. Threatening to raise the rent to win arguments, turning Rose’s heat off because she’s mad at her, having wicker furniture in the living room. Sure, she lives there too, so the house looks more presentable than just walls sloppily painted off-white and doors that don’t sit in their frames properly. Still, in the episode where the roof starts leaking and needs replaced, what happens? They all chip in. Hahahahaha, get the hell out of here, Blanche, that’s your responsibility.

It’s clear Blanche is renting her house to supplement her income, since she “Works herself like a dog twenty hours a week at that museum”. And, in theory, there’s nothing wrong with being a landlord as long as you are ready to treat it with the same level of care you would approach any other job. But ironically, despite being part of that alleged “greatest generation”, Blanche doesn’t want to work. But, of course, if you’re in a rough spot financially, it’s perfectly logical to rent out some rooms to help out a bit.

But here’s the thing…Blanche doesn’t need the money.

Every story from Blanche’s childhood that doesn’t involve sex usually mentions growing up in Hollingsworth Manor. Her family had money; they were probably “old money”, she was not a child who grew up poor like Dorothy or Rose or Sophia, who lived under a bridge in Sicily. The Hollingsworth’s were just straight up rich. Then she got married, and guess what? Her husband George was also rich. She had nannies taking care of her kids while she was a housewife. She openly admitted once that she married money. So now, at the time of the show, she has her family money AND her late husband’s money. There’s no reason she should need to rent her rooms.

There is no mention that maybe she’s squandered her money or has a gambling problem or anything like that. Yet she’s always needed to fill those rooms since her husband passed, if for no other reason than to avoid finding herself a real job. So she opens up her house (god forbid she finds a smaller place) to strangers, whom she once accidentally called “suckers”. And, sure, she grew to love the Girls as her own family. But at the end of the day she’s taking money from a substitute teacher, an unemployed 80-year old, and Rose, a woman who somehow manages to hold decent jobs despite being a nitwit.

To be blunt, Blanche is a monster. Blanche is just renting out her house for the sheer, powerful thrill of having people dependent on her. Sure, she probably wouldn’t throw the girls out on the street, she does love them. But she still has that dynamic, that threat she can whip out when they get on her nerves. What kind of sadist does that? Is that someone we really feel like rooting for these days, with tenants posting more and more often about the lack of attention from their landlords? Perhaps we would watch a gritty antihero reboot, a la Dexter, about a loveable slut who grifts everyone close to her. Blanche’s House, coming next spring in 2024.

Aren’t You Funny?

“God you are so freaking funny. You know that right? So funny. Like really, everyone says so. Everyone at work, everyone in your friends group, your family. Like so funny. You know what? You should start a podcast! Just you and someone else, talking about whatever you want to talk about. You’re so funny, you could make a lot of money doing that. Yessir, you really should do something like that. You’d go viral! All the really funny people go viral!”

It excited you to hear people say that about you, didn’t it? It makes you feel powerful, the ability to make people laugh. Intoxicating and validating. All that extra positive feedback was just so flattering. That’s how you got into this stupid mess you’re in now.

A podcast, what the fuck were you thinking? Starting a podcast. They’ve been around for years, there are an infinite amount of podcasts in the world. And what is your pitch, the way you summarize your show? “Just the two of us talking about whatever!” Oh my god, you idiot. There’s like a million podcasts that are just, “Two of us talking about whatever”. What makes yours stand out from theirs? Stupid, naive funny guy.

You didn’t do enough research into this before you began. Everyone said you were funny, that was enough. Just get a friend you share a good rapport with, a couple of cheap microphones, google “How to make a podcast”, and you’re set. Put up a few episodes and then set up a Patreon. Why shouldn’t people be paying you for this already? You’ve been doing it for all of a month.

But after that third episode it hit you: this isn’t good. You’re not doing a good job and you know it. Sure, people are being encouraging and giving you listens, but you’ve listened too. You hate it! You’ve heard what funny people sound like on podcasts and it’s not you! It’s just a few forced jokes and awkward laughter. Sometimes you sound like you’re making an intelligent point, but you’re just repeating something you read on Facebook that morning. You fraud!

Should have just been happy being the funny guy at the office. That was fine! People liked you, it alleviated work tension, made you feel good about yourself. Now you think you’re some sort of “performer”? You never realized how much work is involved in being funny on purpose. You aren’t a writer or a comedian. You’re not an artist, you have a Business degree.

You can only try to forget that comedy open mic you went to. What were you thinking? Like you were going to be the next George Carlin. He made it look so effortless, just sitting on the stage and spouting off one brilliant thing after the other. You didn’t really plan what you were going to say, just stood up there and waited for your “naturally funny” talents to shine through. The other comics going up had notes and stuff they were checking before they went up, but you didn’t. You had natural talent, you don’t have to write or work hard.

It was the longest four minutes of your life. No one really laughed, but no one jeered either. Just four minutes of hard, uncomfortable silence. “What else, what else…” you mumbled nervously when you ran out of things to say. You practically vaulted off the stage and out the door. So happy you didn’t bring anybody.

It’s dawned on you: you aren’t “funny” in that way. You’re just funnier than the people you work with, who aren’t that funny in the first place. To them you seem next level because you always have a sarcastic comment or dramatic metaphor at the ready. And sure, you like being funny that way. But to do a whole piece? Come up with a humorous opinion for every single topic out there and present it like it’s fresh, like Jerry Seinfeld didn’t already cover it? You fool.

So now here you sit, at your computer with the empty audio file onscreen, wondering if you can just tell your friend/cohost that you want to stop doing the podcast you’ve only done five times so far. Maybe it’s too soon to “give up”, they won’t understand why you stopped so quickly. They’ll think you quit because you didn’t go “viral” after a month. But you never really thought you would. The chances of going viral get slimmer every year. The novelty of putting your proposal video onto TikTok isn’t as heartwarming as it was years ago.

You’ve even made fun of a few TikTok proposals on your podcast, because you didn’t have anything prepared to discuss. It felt good to make fun of them, you and your cohost laughed and laughed at how stupid they were. You’ve discovered a lot of comedy is just being mean to people. It feels good in the moment, and even if it seems harsh you have to stand by it. The audience is getting it wrong. You’re a nice person, right?

But who would you be if you weren’t the “funny one”? You’re not particularly bright, you have a Business degree. You’re not “hot”, that’s for sure. Are you trying to be funny to appear more fuckable? That doesn’t seem the way to go. Why did you put yourself out there like this in the first place? Are you really that bored with your life? Get a less-humiliating hobby then!

Look, it’s not so bad. Just stop doing your podcast. In a month or so no one will remember it and you can just kind of settle back into your groove. You’re still “funny”, right? Just because you don’t want to record yourself talking for an hour every week and share it to the world doesn’t mean you have zero worth. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You don’t need to define yourself by how good you are at making people laugh.

Hey that was a pretty smart observation. Maybe you should talk about it on the podcast.