Hunter Moore Makes a Living Screwing You

The hated revenge-porn profiteer says he wants to teach a lesson with his web site. How long before the 26-year-old learns one himself?

Such cautionary tales don't stop approval-seeking minors from self-submitting. "I have little girls e-mail me naked pictures of themselves like, 'I hope you like me,'" Moore says. "It's really bad." It's the one area in which Moore seems to show a glimmer of personal responsibility. He talks about establishing a nonprofit that would educate minors about the potential consequences of underage sexting. "Some of them think it's funny to put them on my site. They don't realize: Not only are you fucking over that girl, you're fucking over your life, too. You're going to be a sex offender for the next 10 years when I report it—not only are you fucked, your whole life is fucked. That's my main goal, but people don't want to hear about that stuff."

Then again, the noise drowning out that stuff might be the squealing minors proudly claiming Is Anyone Up as an ambition. For example, an arbitrary search for the site's Twitter handle and the number 18 brings up "i hope your [sic] still there so when i turn 18 i can self submit myself :]" (March 25) and "Can't wait til I'm 18 so I can happily self submit to @is_anyone_up and hopefully one day fuck @Huntermoore" (March 27). It gets soul-scorchingly redundant from there.

"Oh, I love that shit," he says. Laughing. "I love it." I ask about this on two separate conversations two weeks apart just to be sure, and his response is remarkably consistent. "To be perfectly honest, I think it's fucking awesome that people want to be on my site when they turn 18." The underage ambition to be nude on his site is cool, just not the unlawful execution. "It's kind of disgusting but amazing at the same time." They probably don't even mean it, he contends. "It's the Internet," he dismisses. What about in real life? "If some fucking 14-year-old ran up to me off the playground and was like, 'I can't wait to be on your site,' I'd be like, 'All right, I think it's time to shut down the site.' Yeah, wait, are 14-year-olds even on playgrounds? Anyway, whatever."

Dustin Fenstermacher
Hunter Moore says there’s an easy way to avoid a cameo on Is Anyone Up: Don’t take nudes; you don’t have a problem.
Nate “Igor” Smith
Hunter Moore says there’s an easy way to avoid a cameo on Is Anyone Up: Don’t take nudes; you don’t have a problem.

Details

Here's what it's like to be a 19-year-old college sophomore and learn your lacy pink panties are displayed worldwide on Is Anyone Up. You open Twitter one afternoon while doing homework, check your reply column, and—oh, no!—instantly start to cry. Your iPhone rings. Friends are on the line, using their soft, concerned voices. Some kid you sorta know from Poughkeepsie, whose band was recently signed, tweets at you, "Nice tits!" which is a megaphone to mutual friends that you're naked on the Internet. Your Facebook account turns into an unwelcome string of gross notes from pervy zombie mouth-breathers and douche bags you hated in high school. By the next morning, you have 600-plus friend requests, 400 brand-new Twitter followers, and countless raunchy messages concerning your body parts.

At least that's more or less how Kristen, who asked to have her name changed in this story, remembers the immediate aftermath. One Thursday, the New Paltz student came home from soccer practice to find herself locked out of her online accounts. When she got into her Facebook account again, her chat icon was goading personal information from acquaintances on her friends list—she'd been hacked by a stranger. Three hours later, her name was a headline on Is Anyone Up.

Four weeks after the post, we meet up at a tiny Midtown Starbucks. "What bothered me the most was the fact that a complete stranger was the person who submitted them," she says, flattening a tear on her bottom left eyelid. Pink nails, pierced nostril, she's a cute blonde in town from upstate for half the day, helping her mom with a conference; she's terrified of her parents finding out, and the excuse for our surreptitious conversation is shoe shopping. The bright side: The photos on the website are tasteful posterior shots and one dreamy black-and-white semi-nude torso. Kristen swears the faceless photos had never been sent. Saved in her e-mail, they were intended to be gifts for the long-distance "kid who I have been seeing, who I've been in love with on and off for years." Unfortunately, few people believed her that a hacker had excavated the nudes, including him. "He didn't want to talk with me anymore."

At least they weren't worse. "All my friends were like, at least you're not the girl shoving fruits and vegetables in places they shouldn't be," she says, feigning comfort. "Everyone was like, 'They're very artistic!' I'm like, 'Oh. My. God.'

Kristen could've, in theory, subpoenaed the IP address of the person who submitted her photos, or been the one to test in court how far the DMCA shield extends to Moore's site. "My friends told me, 'You'd be the one who saved everybody!'" she says. Money would be one obstacle, but the unwanted attention would be another. "Then I'd be the girl sitting up there with Hunter on Anderson Cooper. And no."

Without New York City, none of this would have ever happened.

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