It's not a debt and deficit crisis, it's a jobs crisis. The debt and the deficit are part of it, part of the general fear that we're on a long slide and can't turn it around. The federal tax code is part of it—it's a drag on everything, a killer of the spirit of guts and endeavor. Federal regulations are part of it. The administration's inability to see the stunning and historic gift of the energy revolution is part of it.

But it's a jobs crisis that's the central thing. And you see it everywhere you look.

I'm in Pittsburgh, making my way to the airport hotel. The people movers are broken and we pull our bags along the dingy carpet. There's an increasing sense in America now that the facades are intact but the machinery inside is broken.

The hotel has entrances on two floors. I search for the lobby, find it. Travelers are milling about, but there's no information desk, no doorman, no bellman or concierge, just two harried-looking workers at a front desk on the second level. The man who checked me in put his phones on hold when I asked for someone to accompany me upstairs. As we walked to the room I felt I should explain. I told him a trial attorney had told me a while back that there are more lawsuits involving hotels than is generally known, and more crime, so always try to have someone with you when you first go to your room. I thought the hotel clerk would pooh-pooh this. Instead he said, "That's why we just put up mirrors at each end of the hall, so you can see if someone's coming." He made it sound like an amenity.

"What should we do then, scream?" I asked. He laughed and shrugged: "Yeah."