Has there ever been a sadder thing in the history of What We Must Bear than the time Peggy Noonan didn’t like her hotel room? Well, yes! There was also the time the people-movers at the airport didn’t work, and Peggy Noonan had to drag her suitcase along dirty carpet! Let us read of these great horrors, and hold our children close, and kiss them on the tops of their heads, and mutter thankful prayers to whichever G_d we choose that we, too, did not have to suffer the fate that Peggy Noonan did, in the hotel room she did not like, due to “Obama” and “jobs.”
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.
Can’t you just smell the mines and poverty and sadness? Can’t you see the little children, their faces unwashed and bodies shriveled, an army of walking Walker Evans photos, making Peggy Noonan sad? Oh, sorry, no, we forgot. There are no waifs in this story, just a dingy carpet. Peggy Noonan gets sad easy, we guess. BUT WHAT ABOUT THE HOTEL? WHEN WILL PEGGY NOONAN TELL US ABOUT THE HOTEL? Oh, right about now.
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.”
Things are getting pretty bare-bones in America. Doormen, security, bellmen, people working the floor—that’s maybe a dozen jobs that should have been filled, at one little hotel on one day in one town. Everyone’s keeping costs down, not hiring.
What that hotel looked like is America without its muscle, its efficiency, its old confidence.
Why did Obama fire all the hotel workers? Is it because he hates capitalism, and jobs, and wants everyone to be poor so they can all be ACORNs?
Yes. Stupid Obama murdered all the jobs.