Download videos from Pornhub

How to download videos from Pornhub without installing extensions or paying for a download service:

1. Go to your video (e.g. http://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=7266c56cabfc051f323c).

2. Click “Embed” and copy the code provided to Notepad.

<object type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” data=”http://cdn-www.pornhub.com/flash/embed_player_v1.3.swf&#8221; width=”608″ height=”476″><param name=”movie” value=”http://cdn-www.pornhub.com/flash/embed_player_v1.3.swf&#8221; /><param name=”bgColor” value=”#000000″ /><param name=”allowfullscreen” value=”true” /><param name=”allowScriptAccess” value=”always” /><param name=”FlashVars” value=”options=http://www.pornhub.com/embed_player.php?id=147969″/></object>

3. Copy the last param, FlashVars, at the end of the  code:

<param name=”FlashVars” value=”options=http://www.pornhub.com/embed_player.php?id=147969“/>

4. Go to this URL and find the “flv_url” parameter.

5. Copy this URL to download the FLV video directly.

How to waste an afternoon on the Internet

Hardly an original title, I know. It really is shockingly easy to do. People like me seem to be conditioned into the need to be constantly entertained or stimulated in some way. I, for example, need music in some form to feel like I’m supposed to be relaxing. It helps me concentrate my thoughts while giving a part of my brain something nourishing to chew on.

So naturally I spent most of this afternoon looking around on the amazing SeeqPod, and the even more amazing MuxTape. MuxTape, if you’re out of the loop like I was, is a brilliantly simple and yet amusingly illegal way to find new music. People sign up, upload their favourite songs to a 12-song playlist, and then publish it for all the see. Here’s the catch – it’s not searchable, but this apparently is deliberate. The idea is to force users to discover new music instead of stay around the genres and conventions they’re already familiar with. Great in concept, but in practice you find yourself subjected to more electro-nonsense and cheesy Latino party-music than you might expect. And the site doesn’t do you the courtesy of telling you what to expect when you select a song. I’m all for breaking down borders and bringing new ideas into the fold, but I need to get into a certain state of mind to listen to, say hip-hop, just like I need to think differently to enjoy metal. I greatly enjoy both types of music, but I can’t really switch between Spank Rock one minute and then Dream Theater the next. I’m also a fan of post-rock music like Tortoise and Explosions n the Sky – these acts bring long and noodly compositions that require effort and patience to experience, and it just seems boring listed next to an angry punk song or a poppy rap tune.

Still, you can use Google to find people’s MuxTapes, and find new music by hopping from one user to another; I’ve spent about a hour today throwing myself through various jazz and new-age lists.

SeeqPod is actually my new favourite toy. I found it through the music search site Songerize (a simplified and restricted front-end to the SeeqPod database). Essentially, you search for music you’re already familiar with, and the site looks fr associated and related acts. You can play most songs straight from the site, but some only have small samples or, most disappointingly, no way to listen at all.

It’s truly incredible that I can find hours worth of music with hardly any effort and, more importantly, without spending a proverbial dime. It’s all totally illegal, of course. There’s no way a web company can maintain a business model that relies on users uploading other people’s copyright protected work. I can seriously see myself spending more time on these (anti-)social music sites, surely generating stacks of income for record companies and artists in the long term. A possible solution to the stalemate could be to use sites like MuxTape and SeeqPod in the same way as singles once were – as a promotional tool to hook people into investing more money in an artist by buying an album.

Job agencies: A story of fail.

I’ve never been a fan of agencies. Most of the time you spend there is completely wasted, as the consultant you may or may not ever meet scrabbles desperately to find your information. Most of the time I get the impression that, as glorified HR salespeople, they’re not up to the job. Thursday’s adventure just reaffirmed that impression. Being in a confident mood and armed with a bag of CVs, I went to five or six agencies to apply for jobs. Two incidents are particularly memorable:

Reed, a company that literally doesn’t want to meet you. I could only speak to the receptionist, a pretty clueless-acting and slightly posh young woman of about 20.

“I noticed a couple of jobs in your window that look interesting and I’d love to make some applications”
“Ooo..K. Have you got a CV on you?”

I hand over my CV, which lists a great number of IT-related skills and experience, and some brief but important details of admin and office tasks. It’s pretty fat, to be honest.

“So you’re working in admin at the moment?”
“Well, my last job title was ‘Support Supervisor’, and it involved some admin, but mostly I was working on their network upgrade and getting their new software together”

I see her scrawl the word “Admin” above the section on IT training and documentation.

“So you’re not working at the moment?”
“Well I’m temping for Homebase, entering and checking orders, doing reports, you know”

She writes “entering bookings, reports”.

“I can’t sign you up now, because that’ll take about an hour and none of the consultants are around at the moment, but we can give you a call next week?”

Whatever. All I really expect is to be able to meet with somebody who’s in touch with people looking for staff. But before you can even get that far, you have to summarise your skills, experience, and what you can bring to a company into a few sentences, which are briefly noted by a receptionist who clearly couldn’t give a damn.

Still, it least I got to meet the receptionist. Pertemps, just down the road, didn’t even give me that privilege. A few tempting looking temporary jobs were listed in their window, along the lines of product support and office co-ordinator for various local firms. A tiny Post-It note stuck to the front door told me to “press buzzer to right for entry”. I looked inside to see the receptionist speak into a microphone:

“Yes?”
“Uh, hi. I’d like to apply for a couple of the jobs in the window”
“What job?”
“Well, there’s one for an office co-ordinator for the local council, I’ve done that kind of work before”
“Do you have experience?”
“Well, yes, several years in fact”

I’m still speaking into the intercom. I’m being interviewed through a door.

She rummages through some papers on her desk and gets up. She then opens the letter flap in the door and passes me a business card. I take it, and see it’s an old card that’s been modified with a biro. Before I can look up ask what to do with it, she’s back at her desk. The intercom crackles back to life.

“You have to send your CV to the address”
“No problem. I have one here, maybe I can show it to a consultant?”
“They’re busy. You must email it to the system”
“You’re kidding?”
[Pause]
“OK, speak to you soon”

I stand paralysed on the spot, trying to shake off the suspicion that at some point I’ve walked through a looking glass, or crossed into a bizarre circle of hell. I seriously had to go over to a nearby bench, roll a cigarette, and have a sit down to go over what I’d just experienced.