Twitter hasn’t revealed how many users’ passwords may have potentially been compromised or how long the bug was exposing passwords before it found and fixed the issue. But the fact that the company is urging its entire user base to change their passwords indicates that it would seem to be a significant number of users.

The channels occupy a precarious space between YouTube’s algorithm and its copyright policing, drawing comparisons to the unlicensed pirate radio stations of the 20th century, recreated in the digital sphere. Many of the channels blink in and out of existence within a week, but their presence has become a compelling part of the site’s musical ecosystem. And while competitors like Spotify are gaining, YouTube still dominates the streaming world, according to the latest Music Consumer Insight Report from the International Federation of the Phonographic Industry.

So why is the paywall going up? Partly because it can. Paywalls are so common nowadays that Bloomberg was effectively leaving money on the table by not having one. Like the good capitalists that they are, Bloomberg’s executives have decided to pick this low-hanging fruit. As a business decision, it’s a no-brainer.

But there’s something else going on here too, related to the way Bloomberg LP is structured.

Philosophers in the 18th century defined taste as a moral capacity, an ability to recognize truth and beauty. “Natural taste is not a theoretical knowledge; it’s a quick and exquisite application of rules which we do not even know,” wrote Montesquieu in 1759. This unknowingness is important. We don’t calculate or measure if something is tasteful to us; we simply feel it. Displacing the judgment of taste partly to algorithms, as in the Amazon Echo Look, robs us of some of that humanity.

You don’t have to be a developmental psychologist to understand how a potent combination of visceral thrills and ideology, administered amid the hormonal chaos of adolescence, can have a lasting emotional impact. Whether they’re as brilliant as A Wrinkle in Time or as idiotic as the Saved by the Bell reruns I watched on an infinite loop in middle school, these stories burrow into our malleable, pubescent lizard brains and teach us how to live. From there, they become transitional objects for kids too old to drag around a tattered security blanket. Long after I graduated to grown-up literature, I would spend anxious nights re-reading Sweet Valley High books.