Don't be alarmed. The strange man isn't some stark naked psycho. The strange man is fully clothed. Polite, even, efficient, neat and obviously well-educated.
So what would you do?
"Hey, don't mind me," says the filmmaker, gesturing for you to keep on with your normal routine. "I'm just here to protect you in case some criminals try to attack when you're at your most vulnerable."
Would you shrug and say you always figured there was a filmmaker in your bathtub the whole time anyway?
Would you say you had nothing to hide, and seek to make the filmmaker welcome in your bathtub, perhaps even trot downstairs to fetch him an anisette biscotti and a nice hot cup of morning joe?
Or would you just stand there, confused American that you are, unable to process the cameraman-in-your-bathtub thing, frantically searching for a reason not to have a violent confrontation (because who wants confrontations when at your most vulnerable)?
And then it hits you:
He's right! He's just protecting you and other Americans from evil.
The human mind works this way. When confounded, we seek refuge in recognizable patterns. And for so many of us, trained for generations to studiously avoid confrontation, it solves so many problems, doesn't it?
So rather than become upset and risk an actual conflict, you just go along, because that's how we roll these days in America.
You bow politely, exit the bathroom, sigh a deep sigh, and begin repeating:
"I really have nothing to hide. I really have nothing to hide. I really ..."
Whether you have something to hide or not isn't my concern. Although I do hope when that you read this column that you have the decency to be fully clothed. But sadly, I have no control over that, either.
This might sound subversive -- and given what's going on in our country, it is absolutely subversive -- but what you do in your bathroom is your business.
What you do on the Internet, or on the telephone, should be your business, too.
Not my business.
Most definitely not the National Security Agency's business.