I launched this blog on Aug. 12, 2004.

Three years later, I've made 4,561 posts and through them, altered the course of human history in ways that neither myself or overall humanity fully appreciate yet. Or not.

Thanks to all those who, through their loyal patronage, have made this blog number 177,881 on Technorati.

I will now cut the cake.

The NYT has a lengthy look at where it went wrong for the United States in Afghanistan. Here's a very brief taste:

Two years after the Taliban fell to an American-led coalition, a group of NATO ambassadors landed in Kabul, Afghanistan, to survey what appeared to be a triumph — a fresh start for a country ripped apart by years of war with the Soviets and brutal repression by religious extremists.

With a senior American diplomat, R. Nicholas Burns, leading the way, they thundered around the country in Black Hawk helicopters, with little fear for their safety. They strolled quiet streets in Kandahar and sipped tea with tribal leaders. At a briefing from the United States Central Command, they were told that the Taliban were now a “spent force.”

“Some of us were saying, ‘Not so fast,’ ” Mr. Burns, now the under secretary of state for political affairs, recalled. “While not a strategic threat, a number of us assumed that the Taliban was too enmeshed in Afghan society to just disappear.”

But that skepticism had never taken hold in Washington. Since the 2001 war, American intelligence agencies had reported that the Taliban were so decimated they no longer posed a threat, according to two senior intelligence officials who reviewed the reports.

The American sense of victory had been so robust that the top C.I.A. specialists and elite Special Forces units who had helped liberate Afghanistan had long since moved on to the next war, in Iraq.

Those sweeping miscalculations were part of a pattern of assessments and decisions that helped send what many in the American military call “the good war” off course.

While I stick mainly to two Ontario craft beers -- Creemore and Steamwhistle -- there are a number of others I like (Mill Street and Cameron's, to name two).

And on occasion, I'm prepared to pay my own money (yes, you read that correctly) to try a beer I've never tried before.

I did this with something called Harvest Gold Pale Ale, by Barley Days Brewery of Prince Edward County (formerly known as Glenora Springs Brewery).

At this point, I think I made a foolish, foolish call. I have no pretentions to beer connoisseurhood; I only know what I like or dislike. The aftertaste of this beer is akin to stale cigarette tobacco decomposing on my tongue. I don't view that as a good thing.

The coming days will be a test: Do I get my twelve buck's worth by choking back the other five bottles of this rancid swill, or do I cut my losses by pouring it down the drain and never touching another BDB product ever again?

To drink or not to drink? That is the question ...

They are there to attend a conference organized by Hizb ut-Tahrir al-Islami (Islamic Liberation Party), a group dedicated to restoring the Caliphate to the Islamic world in the Middle East.

Tonight, around 12:20 a.m., Eastern Daylight Time, I'm waiting for a TTC bus to whisk me from deepest Agincourt back down to Kennedy Station, where I will catch the subway and rejoin the downtown scene.

I'm waiting for the bus on McCowan, right across the street from the McCowan SRT station.

Just to the south of the station's entrance is a highly agitated young man in green ballcap, white t-shirt and baggy jeans.

"I SWEAR ON MY OWN LIFE, THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD!!" he screams into his cellphone as he paces. "DEAD! DEAD!! DEAD!!!"

This went on for at least five minutes, with his voice occasionally dropping before rising again to a full bellow.

There's about seven or eight people waiting for the bus. They are split into two groups: One that is snickering at the spectacle, and the others who clearly wished they could be as far away as possible from it as quickly as possible.

As the shuttle bus arrived, he switched from threats to characterization: "YOU'RE A WHORE! YOU'RE A WHORE! YOUREAWHOREYOUREAWHOREYOUREAWHOREYOUREAWHOREYOUREA  ..."

He was still going when I left. For all I know, he could still be going as I'm posting this.

I've been all over this great city of Toronto, and I'm telling you, all the best public tantrums happen in Scarborough.

The questions I'm left with are these: Who was he calling? Were they still on the line when I left? If so, why?