July 07, 2004

100 Million Count 1.0 & 100MilCounter 1.0.1

When Apple announced their 100 Million Songs giveaway, we knew one thing: we couldn’t win this thing alone. Sure, hard work and perseverance can solve many problems, that Nutella-smeared bowling ball in the heating duct notwithstanding, but purchasing that magical 100 millionth song — ah, for that we needed 100 Million Count and 100MilCounter. Like the rugged cowboys of yesteryear, this daring pair of trailblazers rode out of the prairie with spurs a-jangle and thighs a-chafing. They single-handedly opened up whole new possibilities in the world of Apple-fandom: now, ladies and gentlemen, in this year of amazing events, of unlikely happenstance, of stupendous changes, now it is possible to watch, in near-realtime, how many songs the iTunes music store has sold.

100MilCounter.png
Oh look, it’s COUNTING!!

But that’s just basic functionality; any semi-literate mammal could tell you that. 100MilCounter — poor bastard — only manages to regurgitate the current song count, while its more robust cousin 100 Million Count is happy to provide a full-fledged graph of the thrilling proceedings. But let us not be distracted by petty arguments about “features” or “user interface,” for each of the two have their advantages and disadvantages, their little foibles which we must excuse, given the hasty nature in which these applications were thrust onto the software-consuming public. Ahh, thrusting; it reminds us of how the South Sandwich Islands meander vaguely towards the mighty antarctic peninsula.

100-million-count.png
And wow, this one is GRAPHING! Trumps, dude!

The developers of these twin towers of pure software power clearly felt a need to increase their chances of winning that much-vaunted iTunes Music Store Celebrity Playlist opportunity (an opportunity to show off their vast collections of Weird Al and Wesley Willis, no doubt), but rather than keep their fungal creations close to their moist and hairy bosoms, they seized the day, foisting the results of their fit of opportunistic programming upon the public. Carpe diem, bah!

Have you ever noticed how wensleydale is a total rip? Wallace & Gromit had us fooled. Sadly, unto dust it returns as it nears our belligerent tongues. Of course we have heard that every hundred millioneth wheel of wensleydale is made with the milk of wild mink and actually tastes wonderfully delicious, so keep chompin’, cheese lovers!

James Tuley and “Brian” of Eklektion, for your epic paeans to consumerism and time wasting we are pleased to present a dusty and careworn — but still beautiful underneath it all — 10.7. You’ll have to share.

Download 100 Million Count
Download 100MilCounter

Posted by jan at July 7, 2004 02:50 PM | TrackBack
Comments

erst ost

Posted by: on July 7, 2004 03:14 PM

97659252

Posted by: David Valley on July 7, 2004 03:49 PM

I have a big weiner.

If you let me win the iTunes millionth song contest I will share it (my weiner) with you.

Wait. I am a crazy Canookian and damned if we're not allowed to buy stuff from the music store. Ain't NAFTA a bitch?

Posted by: longdongsilver on July 8, 2004 12:51 AM

A Canadian weiner? Jeez, where do I sign up?

Posted by: Oingo on July 8, 2004 02:49 AM

I'm living in the Netherlands and I can't participate with the iTunes millionth song contest and I wish I could.
But for everybody, have luck!!

Posted by: Truus Dorsman on July 8, 2004 04:31 AM


I hear Wesley Willis died. It's a sad loss, no more will we enjoy a drunken schizophrenic homeless man screaming about McDonald's making him fat. That's the kind of original creativity the music industry needs, not more of this bubble gum teen pop crap!

Posted by: yomama on July 8, 2004 06:07 AM

Tenth post! Wooo!

Posted by: PersonWithTaste on July 8, 2004 11:07 PM

You heartless bastards. Wensleydale is lovely.

Womerton's better still. But I wouldn't expect a Van 'Yankee Doodle' Tol 'Dandy' to have heard of it.

Tish. Pffrt.

Posted by: El Capitano Corelli on July 9, 2004 05:31 AM

I taste great in coffee, or even chai!

Posted by: no-fat winky substitute on July 9, 2004 06:05 AM

I object!

Posted by: El Winko Magnifiquo on July 9, 2004 11:47 AM

I object to the objection!

Posted by: djfran86 on July 9, 2004 03:58 PM

I object to the object of the objection.

Posted by: no body on July 9, 2004 05:39 PM

I have a big object.

Posted by: longdongsilver on July 9, 2004 06:58 PM

The chap seems very proud of his rating. I would be, too.

Posted by: Vaska on July 10, 2004 03:06 AM

http://www.wonderwarp.com/ninefigures/

Posted by: on July 10, 2004 06:19 AM

how bout a program that tracks the amount of times i've
whittled a whistle ?

Posted by: wacko jacko on July 12, 2004 10:09 AM

badger

Posted by: www.badgerbadgerbadger.com on July 13, 2004 10:10 AM

How about a program that counts badgers as you see them? Now THAT would be useful. I wouldn't have to count them by myself anymore.

Posted by: Huck on July 13, 2004 11:05 AM

Twelve.

Is this really all PerversionTracker commentary is these days?

Posted by: Vaska on July 14, 2004 11:57 PM

New and improved badger:
http://vw2.nildram.co.uk/~gedski/footy.swf

Posted by: www.badgerbadgerbadger.com on July 15, 2004 09:07 AM

Awesome.

Posted by: longdongsilver on July 16, 2004 07:14 AM

So, how's about one of them review thingies?

Posted by: Huck on July 16, 2004 09:47 PM

When I were a lad, PerversionTracker rule o'er lands that stretched from the western shores of the Ottoman Empire to the tiny island of Mabuiag. Her ships sailed upon the seven seas, and several of the larger beaver dams of Wisconsin, carrying cargoes valuable beyond price. Her conquering armies marched five and six abreast (giggle, giggle) along cobbled roads that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Then suddenly, overnight it seemed, the ships no longer breasted (titter, titter) the horizon, and the great breastworks (snort!) of her fortifications crumbled to the ground.

Darkness fell upon my soul, and in the bleakness mine hand reached out and grasped a quill, which I scratched across a handy piece of vellum that just happened to be sitting on my antique (c. late 2001 Laminex) Ikea computer desk. And this is what, as if unbidden, flowed from the carved nib of my feather:


I met a traveller from a BBS
Who said: Two vast and senseless posts of crap
Are on a website . . . Near them, on the page,
Half drunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its barkeep well those passions read
Which yet survive, (stamped on these lifeless things,)
The hand that mocked them and the beer that fed:
And on the blighted Web these words appear:
"My name is PVT, the site of sites:
Look on my works, RealB*SIC, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal site, boundless and bare
The lone and empty Web stretched far away.


But just as the night seem at its darkest and most cold, a funny old chap in grey robes and a pointy hat rocked up to my place and thrashed a f*cking great dent in my door with his gnarly stick. And just as I was about to tear him a new one, he put his hand up and silenced me, and struck my dachsund with his stick, and great sparks flew from it and the poor f*cking dog dropped stony dead.

"Hey!" I started, but again he raised his hand and struck me dumb.

"Mmmmmf!" I said.

"Canst thou not just shut the hell up for but five seconds?" he growled.

"Mmmm mmm mmmf mm!" I said.

"Thank you."

"Mmmm mmmf mm!"

"Fear not, young aussie. For I have flown on the back of the great eagle, Sam the Muppet, to the very Crack of Doom and back. And I have seen toiling upon those blasted slopes a band of doughty Van Tols. Naomi carries the One Ring, though bowed is her back with the weight of it. Jan carries the keg. And Ladd carries the munchies. The eye of the Dark Lord is bent upon Cupertino, and his evil crony Ballmer the White, is even as we speak besieged by the avenging forces of His Steveness, who carries the iPod of Redemption."

"Mmmmmf mmmm mmm mmmf?"

"I'm glad you asked, young aussie. But that I cannot answer, save for this one thing I know: there is much stoutness in a Van Tol heart, though they are overfond of tequila and Pringles, it is said. They shall not fail."

At that, he raised both arms and muttered an incantation. I don't know, but it sounded something like: "Now to IBM, to see about those bloody G5 chips!"

A cloud of smoke (which had a sweetish smell and let me lightheaded and exceedingly hungry for the next two and a half hours) and he was gone.

I tell you this so that you too may live in hope that the Van Tols will return from the Crack of Doom to post anew, and once again the land of PVT will echo to the sweet songs of perverted maidens and the dull thud of RealB*SIC disks being clubbed to death with sticks.

And so I bid ye all good night. And don't forget to floss.

Posted by: aussie boy on July 18, 2004 04:46 AM

What a fantastic post! Thank you, Aussie, for restoring our long-since-lost faith in PvT.

Posted by: Mike on July 18, 2004 03:54 PM

Well, I can't take all the credit.

If Belvedere and Grandma hadn't been toking on the crack pipe in the room next door, flooding my office with foul odours that made my head spin with pictures vile and wonderful, I'm sure that vision splendid would never have entered my head.

Or it could have been the moment during their nightly nude backgammon tournament when Grandma bent over ... Well, let's not go there, shall we. The doctor managed to save her, and I think I'd rather forget the whole thing ever happened.

*Shudder!*

Posted by: aussie boy on July 18, 2004 04:54 PM

The dream is over

Posted by: Perpetual moaner on July 19, 2004 03:43 AM

Is that the American dream? Well, that was over when JFK bought the farm.

Or do you mean the dream where Elle McPherson mysteriously floats through my open bay windows, drifting past the softly blowing gauze curtains, looking down into my eyes as she slowly unbuttons her ...

Ahem!

I'll take it you mean the American dream then, shall I?

Posted by: aussie boy on July 19, 2004 09:44 PM

either pvt has to look harder for crap apps or crap ap makers need to step up production

Posted by: bored on July 20, 2004 01:51 PM

*clap* *clap* *clap* *clap*

Fucking sweet post Aussie Boy, you do the... uh, French proud, I guess. Hasn't it been a while since you posted on PVT in a full this-is-my-post-it-even-says-so-down-by-the-posted-by-words fashion? Doth they tremblest upon beholding thine mightily erect way with words?

Posted by: Huck on July 20, 2004 11:46 PM

Hi all! Havent been on this site for a while, but thats cos i got me a new computer. 15" pBook 1.5 Ghz, 128MB Vram, 5400RPM HD, backlit keyboard. :D Nice post, aussie boy. :)

And i go away for a month or two, and when i get back, fud des is still being a little @#%(*! somethings never change. :D

~ozi

Posted by: Ozi on July 21, 2004 11:18 PM

I have a big weiner.

Posted by: longdongsilver on July 22, 2004 01:37 AM

Naomi, Naomi! Wherefore art thou, Naomi!

Ask not for whom the Van Tols. She Tols for thee!

In short, there's nothing on the front page of the site, and the natives are getting restless.

Even Mr Silver has reverted to his five-word monologue in desperation.

Please, please, Van Tol-type persons. Do something!

Posted by: aussie boy on July 22, 2004 06:37 AM

See what happens when I disappear for months at a time? Life ends. That's just how important I am. If I'm not around, nothing exists anymore. Not even longdongsilver's mythical member.

This means if you fall down in a forest and I'm not around to witness it, you don't exist. Period. You are just a figment of a deranged imagination anyway. All of you are. So there, take that.

On a more serious note (what, me serious?), I really enjoyed reading the post from Aussie Boy above. At least until he got to his granny on nude backgammon night. I really didn't need that image planted in my brain. Thanks again Aussie Boy. At least I have an excuse when I slaughter dozens of innocent people on the street tonight ... "but did you see what Aussie Boy said about his granny?" The cops have to let me go with that one, right?

I can't waste much more time here, so what am I supposed to do on my bosses time? They don't really expect me to *WORK*, do they?

Posted by: Walking Contradiction on July 22, 2004 11:16 AM

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