The Power of Three

The Golden Girls.
I've been watching an inordinate amount of this late 80's programming nirvana lately, most likely because I've officially seen every episode of Law & Order and SVU in existence, and it's the only other decent show in syndication.

The sheer genius of the show? What it all comes down to? Not the "Picture It: Sicily, 1922" stories. Not the St. Olaf Stories. Not slutty old Ladies talking about sex and "shaving above the knee".
It's the Golden Girls Three Way Hand Hold. That moment at the end of at least 75% of the episodes when Rose, Blanche and Dorothy would reach across the table (and quite possibly some emotional abyss that had sprung up between them during the past half hour) and grasp each other's hands in a powerful triangle of late middle-aged synchronicity.
Sins would be forgiven. Rose could have set fire to Blanche's sister while simultaneously defiling the fresh grave of Sophia, whom she had murdered only days before for eating the last of the cheesecake and calling her stupid one too many times, but the Hand Hold would signify that all was well. The Girls would reconcile, and could be found sitting on the Lenai for all eternity together, friends and roommates until they succumbed to senility or their kids finally put them in a home.
No problem was too big to be overcome by the Three Way Hand Hold. Hurricanes could have wiped out Miami, the ensuing panic among residents leading to the ritual cannibalization of all women over age 55. Dorothy could have a highly contagious flesh eating virus. The bodies of Miami's missing children could have turned up under Rose's bed in various states of decay, dressed like the Von Trapp Kids. But the Hand Hold, like some secret special move that would be accomplished in the Golden Girls Video Game by some incomprehensible combination of buttons and control pad wrangling, would conquer all.
It's like screaming "Wonder Twin Powers Activate!", but with three people. And without the Rings. Or the purple spandex. Or that gay monkey.