The woman being interviewed said "What's next? Your medical records?"
I blew up.
"Dammit, your employer can make you take a physical. They can run a credit check. They can make you urinate in a Dixie cup. They can make you wear orange spandex short shorts and a crop top, and you're worried that they might see those pictures of you naked at that pool party with a lampshade on your head and shotgunning Ernest & Julio's best straight from the spigot on the box?How does she even remember which end of the spoon goes in her mouth?
Honey, thirty seconds after you put those pictures on the internet, some teenager in Latvia was wanking to them and /b/tards were using them to make lolcats. The privacy horse is out of the barn, down the road, over the horizon, and the Visigoths have burned the barn, and NOW you're worried about it? Just for that, you ought to get a groping AND a porn-o-scan the next time you're at the airport!"
Of course the solution with this, like everything from the guy in the next car texting to the airlines charging you for an extra suitcase is to run to daddy government and tug on his sleeve 'til he passes another law. And people wonder why I'm a misanthrope...