There is no magic in the new Cosmos—no angels or demons, no dragons in Eden, just cold dust and burning gas viewed through rose-colored glasses. No creator gods dominate the production, unless you count the divinized Carl Sagan. His monist prophecy resounds from the outset:
The cosmos is all there is, or ever was, or ever will be.
I caught the series premiere of Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey at a booze-drenched theater in the Pacific Northwest. Evangelical atheists had placed CFI pamphlets on every table, presumably to soak up beer. Everyone shushes for President Obama’s introduction. From there we join Afro-American astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson aboard his cell-phone-shaped “Spaceship of the Imagination,” where we witness blinding supernovae and Jupiter’s crimson hurricane. Considering that today’s star-child explores the world through a palm-sized iMicrocosm, the cell-phone design was an appropriate touch. I’m so enthused about this show, Tyson could be cruising around in a giant silver vibrator and it wouldn’t spoil my trip to Venus.