The other side of life: Cosmos

The other side of life: Cosmos

This season marks the fortieth anniversary of the launch of Voyager toward the edge of the universe. American spacecrafts Voyager 1, currently in interstellar space, and Voyager 2, currently in the Heliosheath, set upon different trajectories in 1977. They will re-converge, the first manmade objects to leave our solar system, sometime in the mid- 2020s. 1977 is also the year that a thoroughly unsexy Carl Sagan made cosmology sexy as he speculated upon the vastness of the universe and the unlimited, promising expanse of humanity’s role within it. His 1980publication and PBS series, Cosmos, have informed every generation since, tracing timespace from Eden along dandelions’ windswept seeds to the farthest reaches of the universe, billions upon billions of miles into the not-yet-known.

Anybody who’s spent more than an hour in Ybor City in the presence of a local knows all about the two dollar martinis at Bernini’s. Patrons order, sometimes two at a discounted time, their favorite Ruso-derived cocktails. Olive-averse, and otherwise a gin drinker, I’m all in for the bargain: the fruitiest—and pinkest–of all concoctions, the Cosmo. I drink them until the price goes up and then coast into the rest of the night with a healthy, sugar-induced inebriation. That journey into the unknown, into the the insular potential of 12th Ave, carries the same danger and exhilaration as a trip into interstellar space.

Truth is, we can get Cosmopolitans at just about any bar, in just about any city in America. Same with Jack Daniels’ sweet, unpretentious mash. Drinkers of each, when faced with the option of taste over economy will vote for the one that will get them drunker cheaper.

So, recently, when the concept of cosmopolitanism re-surged in the context of culture wars, we took note, perhaps putting more stock in the mixology with counter-cutters like ginger ale, lime juice, or all-American Diet Coke—or as we were reminded—racism, sexism, and anti-semitism. Cosmopolitanism finds its loose allegiances amongst progressivism, intellectualism, and metropolitanism. Then there are those of us, who, when cost doesn’t matter, choose to remain closer to our churches, breadbaskets and VFW halls.

And so it is with Bernini’s cheapish martinis as it was with my parents’ free-to-me bourbon, and with the pinkos and the confederates: we find what we like and seek comfort in the saccharin bluntedness of those with whom we share similar tastes. Witness the ponds of blue within the otherwise red electoral map in the United States. The citizens of cities like New York, San Francisco, and Chicago share more in common with each other than they do with their neighbors in counties just outside their metropolitan areas. Aside from accents and language, they probably have more in common with Paris and Berlin thousands of miles away than they do with adjacents like Suffolk, Shasta, or McHenry. Linked by confiscatorily deep tax bases, struggling to bankroll their expensive political experiments, and arrogant in their flouts of Federal law, cosmopolitans exert their influence over the rest of the country on such issues as minimum wage, healthcare, LGBTQ rights, and sanctuary status for illegal immigrants. Further, many cities also collectively endorse stances that don’t directly affect them such as fracking and international climate accords where the symbolism carries real costs outside of their overreached borders.

Witness the countless galaxies within the voids of the expanding universe.

Thus, the pink drinks of cosmopolitanism sweeten their consumers’ silver-tongued rhetoric, creating a new confederacy that undermines the principles of Federalism even as it falls back upon it when it’s convenient. When it’s inconvenient, the Cosmo-confederacy builds its own structure around well-funded international organizations and NGOs that happily push its agenda.

Meanwhile, the less dense sections of America, clinging to their stubby, square-cubed, simple-syruped, old fashioned bourbons, watch as the values and industries that informed their parents’ generation crumble under the weight of social and technological progress. With demagogues leading in the absence of informed visionaries, the traditional confederacy falls into the fallacy of correlation to place blame on cosmopolitanism for its own stagnation. True, they bear some of the burdens of cosmopolitanism without the benefits, but also recoup the transfer of wealth from metro areas through state and national safety-net programs.

Truly, cosmopolitanism reflects the forefront of social and cultural thought. It strongly infuses academic theory and a sense of ever-changing justice—always pushing the comfortable limits of what we know. It is untested, and boldly-goes. To conservatives, this universalist’s worldview can seem dizzying, seemingly 38610 miles per hour in an untethered zero-gravity. The cosmos is vast and intellectually burdensome: it also enriches theory that lives in a void of speculation: both scientific and hypothetical concurrently.

And eventually, bourbon drinkers visit cities and take in Broadway shows, amble the Castro, and cheer in Wrigleyville. They belly up to bars and order pink martinis. And eventually, Cosmo drinkers visit the Adirondacks, ski in Tahoe, and beach Lake Michigan. They belly up to bars and order brown snifters. And eventually, Voyager 1 and Voyager 2 will meet again in deep space. And eventually, they may all converge.

As we hurtle through the universe, we form loose, non-binding confederacies.

If we need to round the sharp edges of our currently known boundaries, so be it. Eventually I-4’s borders will include Tampa, Orlando, Daytona and all the cities in between. America’s borders, the Trump doctrine notwithstanding, will include an overflowing socio-economic-cultural band that includes the United States, the Taliban, and North Korea.

Maybe Gin will become the numbing compromise we all need.

Whether or not that’s 2020 or 3020, humanity’s hope lies in the sweet and untapped promise of the cosmos.

If it’s 2020, all the better.

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