On 15 September a church in Tampa was in the middle of its service when the broadcast stopped. An automated filter had flagged it under a child safety rule. The church appealed the same day, and a reviewer upheld the deletion. Nobody broke a rule. Days later it posted again: "To this day we can't live stream."

That one is a church, but the filter does not know what a church is. It reads a picture and a sound, which is why a fitness class, a podcast that says the wrong word and a concert with the wrong song behind it all sit in the same queue. What ends your broadcast may not be a cable or a laptop, it can be a decision made somewhere else, in under a second.

It is not one account. Two days later a worship channel wrote that it had been taken down and reinstated three times, with "No warnings. No strikes." Its own count: "The channel has been up for years... this is the 3rd time in 90 days."

Nobody wins an appeal before eleven o'clock on a Sunday morning. So spend the hour on a different question: what can the people who were going to watch still watch while your channel is dark, and where does that thing live?