Pakistan and America: The Bad Marriage

The last time I saw Abbottabad, I was in a crowd of a couple of hundred men watching a dancing bear hopping up and down and then wrestling in the dust with the owner's son. The crowd enjoyed it and stayed for the end, the collecting of coins. There was not a lot of entertainment around there; people looked and stopped at anything out of the ordinary. So, like all people, the folks there gossiped about most anything they noticed–say, a million-dollar compound with 18-foot walls and opaque windows three times the size of anything else in what we would…