“Abundance” is not a wonky set of policy prescriptions aimed at liberals on the coasts. The real version of American abundance—the version that long ago moved from theory into practice—can be found in Dallas, Texas. The common thread that runs through all of the elements of this particular Dallas lifestyle is the implicit belief that the world is here for us, and no one else. The church here says that we will be saved, as our wicked enemies burn in hell. The land here is treated as an infinite resource, wasted on broad highways and spacious gas stations and two-car garages, everything farther than it needs to be from everything else, because god bestowed this bounty upon us, and we deserve to use it as we see fit. The politics here coddle the ill-concealed beliefs of a certain set of people that theirs is the superior culture, and nurture their wheedling fears that a darker and different person will creep in and steal it all away in the middle of the night.