“The wise had subtle wisdom
And depth of understanding
Too profound
To be understood.”
Lao Tse, 517 B.C., China

“Harriet? I’m going down
To the malt shop
To see what Rick and Dave
Are up to.”
Ozzie Nelson, 1957 A.D., America


Taoism is all the rage. Books applying its principles to such diverse realms as physics, salesmanship and mystical lovemaking proliferate faster than a Viagra giveaway at an AARP convention. The recent tomes, Tao of Bowling; Tao of Malls; and the unforgettably cryptic Tao of Laundromat Sitting proved that the Tao’s principles are totally adaptable to modern spiritual seekers (or your yen back). Years ago, Winnie the Pooh came out of the Taoist closet, so to speak. It wasn’t long before Ronald Reagan snickered: “That’s Tao it is,” when asked about the national debt. National Public Radio gives hourly updates on the level of Tao present on the planet.

All of the above were but stepping stones unto the supreme Taoist revelation: The retroactive unveiling of Ozzie Nelson as the greatest Taoist saint in American history, one whose spiritual stature rivaled Taoism’s founder, Lao Tse (or “Ol’ Bean Curd Breath,” as Mr. Nelson referred to his ancient mentor offstage).

Like his B.C. (Before Cable) Taoist brethren, Oz’s Way was subtle, almost inscrutable. Always attired in a matching sweater and slacks that would put any self-respecting golfer to shame, The Great Oz spouted an unending font of gentle Taoist parables illuminating the joys and follies of urban American existence at mid-century.

“Through doing nothing, all is done,” said Lao Tse’s comical successor, Chuang Tse who some consider to be the world’s first Oriental Borscht Belt comedian. Oz elevates Doing Nothing to an art and a science, tantalizing viewers for many a season with the highly advanced mystical enigma: What in the heck does Ozzie Nelson do for a living? That is just it: Oz does nothing. Yet through Oz, it is the Tao itself that does all.

When one is joined to Tao, the abundance of the universe is close at hand. The popular Tao of Physics and Dancing Wu Lei Masters revealed the great Taoist-quantum truth that nothing may really be everything. But that nothing is nothing at all compared to the vast, epic nothingness which Ozzie radiates so effortlessly. From his humble, suburban tract-home, unto his American Taoist Headquarters (The Malt Shop), Ozzie Nelson traversed galaxies in the mental and spiritual realms without others ever realizing it. Often, his humble self did not even guess the width and breadth of his esoteric acumen.

It has been claimed that the early Taoists could transmit the essence of their entire teaching with a single arch of the eyebrow, so concentrated upon Tao were they. Master Nelson continues this revered tradition, elevating and transmuting it to a style more befitting American Taoism. In one of his wonderfully concise, potent snickers, Oz conveys volumes of esoteric information for those who have become awakened through the practice of T.V. Channeling.

Like many a great sage, Oz was blessed with a family who surrendered to the fact that he needed lots of seemingly idle time in order to maintain his spiritual connections. In short, work was out of the question. Their support is all the more poignant, given the fact that they hadn’t the slightest clue that Ozzie’s spiritual commitments exceeded beyond an occasional church social dance. Paradox? Well, Tao is like that, especially when dealing with a sage of Oz’s caliber.

In speaking of his family, we refer, naturally, to the Great Gal of Tao, Harriet Nelson, and those cute Yin/Yang Boys, Dave and the Irrepressible Ricky. The apparent everydayness of the Nelson Dynasty is but an occult mask, a la 1950’s Americana, behind which pulsates a thunderous rebirth of Tao on Yankee soil!

If I Love Lucy’s Fred Mertz penetrated the Seven Levels of Boredom, Ozzie Nelson in some ways surpasses even the Mighty Mertz, for Oz perceives no difference between the banal and the sublime. All is one, all is Tao; from Harriet’s scrumptious apple pies, to the allusive repartee he engages in with his friend, Thorny. Offstage, witnessing the shenanigans of his brood, Oz was often heard to mutter, “That’s Tao it is,” but few could divine the metaphysical depths behind his proclamations.

There is a secret T.V. Channeling technique for becoming attuned to the potent Taoist vibrations emanating from reruns of Ozzie and Harriet. Occult scientific textbooks tell us that the electrical field of energy, or “aura” surrounding the human body, can best be perceived by looking out of the corner of the eyes whilst pretending to be uninterested, a perfect spiritual practice for couch potatoes, as well. As we sit before tube and open ourselves to Oz and Tao, employing this truly swell esoteric method, we begin to attune to all sorts of curious occult phenomena.

Is that a gigantic Chinese dragon, next to Ozzie Nelson, where just a moment before we thought we saw only a golf cart? Daring to try again, we are now startled by a vision of the ethereal form of Lao Tse, Ol’ Bean Curd Breath himself, where once we saw only Ozzie’s golf caddy. Gradually, as our T.V. Channeling powers awaken, we come to accept the mystic truth; these profusion of forms are but the higher entities drawn down to our lowly realms by the spiritual majesty that radiates from Ozzie Nelson. Glimpsing, denying, then finally surrendering to reality, the Ozian Snicker takes on new dimensions. Tao begins to vibrate within.

Once we come upon The Way of the Malt-Shop Sitter, our lives are forever transformed. We are now the grateful beneficiaries of an unending sequence of Tele-Visions, in which East meets West and Nothing becomes Something Else entirely. Here are three, to get you started:

An ancient mystic proclaimed: “My burden is light.” Taoist Master Oz, returning home one fine Sunday is met by Dave and Rick who offer to take the burden of Dad’s golf clubs from him.

“No, boys; it’s really quite light,” Oz says, simply.

Another: Sitting contentedly at the dinner table, surrounded by his beloved brood and the boy’s rotound friend, Wally (a Taoist of the Chuang Tse stamp; how else explain his resounding, sage-like laugh, his absolute refusal to take life seriously?), munching on Harriet’s fabled apple pie, Oz says mysteriously: “Now this really is something!”

And, finally: En route to The Malt Shop, secretly the center of the rebirth of Taoism for all western civilization, Oz encounters his pal Thorny, that nervous, East-coast man whose ceaseless banter is so alien to the gentle flow of Tao.

“Where ya headed, Oz?” Thorny bellows, with his usual dumb bravado.

“Nowhwere!” beams The Malt Shop Sage, continuing serenely on his Way, beckoning to all who are ready to follow the Tao of Ozzie and Harriet.