I don’t think the ownership of telecom was the important bit. It was the fact that, before 1996 or so, most PCs were not connected to the internet 100% of the time.

The security implications of pervasive, persistent internet connections meant software vendors had genuine security reasons to push frequent updates. That situation, with vendors pushing constant changes in the name of security, wound up offering vendors a lot of influence they didn’t have before.

This is exactly how, to choose just one familiar example, Microsoft is pushing users to have internet-validated Microsoft accounts, even to log in to their personal computers at home. “Want the security updates that come with Windows 11? You’ll have to let us watch you.” Which is just the way phones have been for longer.

Before the internet became de rigueur, more or less. So much of this kind of top-down-control culture has oozed into the PC world by showing up on phones – those always-on, internet-connected devices – first.

It would be very helpful for my understanding to be able to see this content.

I can understand being curious, I’m curious too.

But it’s hard to imagine any circumstance that would make TikTok support’s responses seem reasonable in context. They’re claiming a right to remix your stuff (where “you” are a paying customer mind you) without your knowledge or consent, and then to disseminate that remix at their discretion.

The specifics of how they altered this ad are almost incidental by comparison.

At the movies with my GF. And, for the first time, her family.

The lights come down. The film is underway. There’s a commotion at the other end of our row. GF’s sister has retrieved something from her bag. There are whispers. Something crinkly is passed down the row, one person at a time, to the left. Eventually, GF hands me a bundle the size of a football. It’s aluminum foil on the outside. Wax paper inside, loosely wrapping up … something. “What is this?” I ask, panicking.

“Pumpkin roll?” she says. Indignant eye-roll tone. As if she meant to say “Uh, helLO, it’s a PUMPkin roll, OBVIOUSLY.” She’s suddenly realized that I’m some kind of bumpkin what ain’t never been to no big-suburb movie theater like this before. Where entire family-size bake-sale pastries are always surreptitiously circulating in the dark.

We’ve been married 20 years now. When she’s mixed-up by some momentary contextual confusion, I am still likely to tease her by ‘explaining:’ “PUMPkin roll?”

I don’t remember if I ate any of it.