Random Facts about Walderschmidt

I’ve been reading Tom Arrow’s blog, Man Without a Father for some time now. I’ve decided that I’m going to shamelessly rip-off one of his post ideas because I want to write a post, but have nothing I can publish just yet.

So here goes nothing. Random facts about myself:

1. Since I was four years old, I’ve wanted to be in the military. I’ve got a family legacy of service. My great-grandfather chased Pancho Villa across Mexico in the US Cavalry. My grandfather served in Darby’s 5th Rangers on D-Day and the rest of WW2. My father spent 27 years in the Navy as a Naval Aviator and my brother was an Officer in the Army for 8 years.

2. I’ve traveled to over 30 countries.

3. I’ve moved house 16 times, been to 10 different schools, and have lived in 4 different countries.

4. I was sent to military school in middle school at sixth grade, as I was lazy, didn’t do my homework, didn’t clean my room, and made bad grades despite doing well on tests. When I got to military school, I made straight As for three years and graduated Valedictorian of my class with an overall GPA of 96.7. The saludictorian actually made better grades than I but deliberately sabotaged himself in hopes of not even earning a GPA high enough that he’d have to speak at graduation.

5. I lived in 4 different countries.

6. I started learning German in eighth grade. I like to tell people that German was my second love, after Japanese. I had started learning about Japanese in sixth grade until I discovered German two years later and never looked back.

7. I’ve been in a boarding school situation for 11 years straight (3 years military middle school, four years of boarding school, four years of military university).

8. I’m in the military.

9. Without modern medicine and good genes, I would have died at childbirth.

10. I can play three songs on the piano by heart: Cantata 147, Moonlight Sonata, and Mad World, but I cannot read sheet music.

11. I’d had about about 6 or 7 different best friends in my life. I only really keep in touch with one at this point – and he is a thought criminal like I am. I consider him a brother; I’d give my life for him and his and I know he’d do the same for me.

12. I’m a voracious reader and always have been. I believe it started when my parents used to read me bedtime stories when I was little. When I first discovered the manosphere I read EVERYTHING. Went through the entire Roissy (now Heartiste), Roosh, and the Spearhead archives. Read all of In Mala Fide and so forth and so on. I read less now, as it seems there’s less I read that is new or different to what I’ve previously read. One of my more proud accomplishments is reading 10 years of one man‘s writing within a month.Suck on that, Hooked on Phonics!

13. I’ve spent 11 years of my life in a boarding school environment – 3 years in military middle school, 4 years in highschool, and then 4 years of military university.

14. There are times where nothing can shake my focus, save the end of the task at hand. Frustratingly, the times where I can hardly focus on anything are more frequent.

15. I’ve realized in the last year/year and a half/two years that family is probably the most important thing to me.

16. To an extent, I can talk about this stuff with my parents and my best friend and as time goes by I notice I can get away with a lot of stuff around people if I just tell them I’m not politically correct. But it’s rare that I meet someone with a open mind I can tell anything.I’m very lucky that I have the parents that I do and a best friend who’s as much of a thought criminal as I am. I almost had a girlfriend (adopted girl from Russia) who was a thought criminal too – it didn’t last – but that’s neither here nor there.

Despite this – I still feel lonely at times. That scares me a little, honestly because though I can’t imagine it, I know that guys who don’t have one or either of those surely have it worse. So I don’t talk about it, generally.

17. I credit pouring over a lot of manosphere articles with my parents circa 2010-2012 as part of the reason I never went through a phase where I was bitter towards women.

18. It’s only in the past three years that I’ve come to seriously appreciate my parents, “warts and all”, with the benefit of a grown up perspective. I’m extremely grateful that I let them both know this over a year ago, as now I live in constant fear that one of them may lose the will to cling to life at any moment. I’ll never sit alone with bottle, mad at myself for never letting them know how much I love and cherish them. I give C. M. Sturges credit for giving me advice which helped start that.

19. This blog has been discovered by one of my former girlfriends (see here for distinction of former girlfriend versus ex-girlfriend). I’ve shared it with my parents, several friends (my roommate being one of them), my best friend, and a girl and her mother; family friends who I’ve known for 14 years.

20. Though in my day to day life, few people are privy to the complete range of my thoughts and emotions, I have my moments where my life looks too bleak and a permanent sleep looks too good to pass up on. I credit my father telling me that “it’s the coward’s way out” and consequently realizing how many of my family members I’d hurt, were I to do it, for preventing me from passing before my time.

21. I once ran away from home into the woods in a fit of anger, in fourth grade. My mother was both worried and impressed because I had cleaned my room first.

22. As of 8. January this year, I’ve been writing for four years.

23. I’m the age at which my list ends.


The Anatomy of the Common Feminist Commentater Arguement(s)

Yes. This is a lazy first blog post to step out of a recent hiatus. But if you look closely enough, there’s a lesson inside here.

Today, we take a look at Common Feminist Commentator’s Arguments.

LaidNYC pens an incendiary “Your Seed is Gold“.

Sex is too easy.

Work out, put on nice clothes, talk to girl, tease her, tell her cool things about me, pretend to be interested in her, fuck her.


Too fucking easy.

It’s stupid.

I don’t give a shit about sex.  Any broad can spread her legs.

You know what I do care about?  Holding girls to a higher standard.

Why?  Because my seed is liquid fucking gold and I don’t give it out like its god damn tap water.

See girls, your pussy is powerless to me.  What else you got?

One of the many comments in response, comes from a beast known as commentator Lauren. It emotes profusely (exhibit A):

There is exactly one reason to pursue women with a low N count: your own insecurities.

Frame it any way you’d like, and pursue virgins to your heart’s content, but let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?

Sorry to break it to you guys, though they will have little-to-nothing to compare you to, it will still be pretty obvious you’re an incompetent lover.

Out of a desire to seek nothing but the truth, I did posit before the creature, some heavy inquiry:

So how many miles of cock have you jumped up and down on?

If it’s not a problem then you don’t mind telling, do you?

She fires back at me (exhibit B):

Jumping up and down on a cock sounds terribly painful, I’d never do that to a man I cared about. If that’s been your experience, I can see why you hate women so much.

I have no qualms with my number. It’s certainly over 5. The exact number is irrelevant, we both know that. Whether it’s 6 or 60, I’m a whore in your eyes. Damaged goods. Worthless. And any other number of names you could call me. But they won’t ever bother me, because I’m confident and secure. So are the men I date. That’s why not one of them has ever had an issue with it.

[LaidNYC – ed: I’m noticing the claim of the phantom bf who loves to date sluts is a common feminist meme online, where it can’t be verified, but hardly ever seen in real life.]

As I told the guy below you, I don’t want to date men like you any more than men like you want to date me. The bad news for you is that a whole hell of a lot more women are going to be like me than men are going to be like you.

I pithily reply:

I can see answering my question is tough for you to accomplish.

Unsatisfied with my return fire she seeks out my blog to make her voice heard (exhibit C):

I wasn’t able to reply to your comment over at the other site, so I thought I’d reply here. I know you don’t get it, but just because you have a penis and make a request does not actually mean I am required to reply. You’re not very smart; I had assumed that, but your writing here removes all doubt.

I’ve had sex with an obscene amount of men in your eyes, and you know what? You’d never stand a chance with me. I’m a slutty whore and I still don’t want you. That burns, doesn’t it? And judging by this slop you write, you don’t really stand a chance with any woman. NEWSFLASH: THE PROBLEM IS NOT ALL WOMEN, THE PROBLEM IS YOU.

P.S. Really, go on hating women, but you desperately need to work on your understanding of verb tenses.


First – let us take a look at exhibit A. Notice the immediate accusation of insecurity. What kind of insecurity? Sexual inadequacy. Surely we men choose virgins because we’re incompetent lovers and wish to hide the fact. Crikey! Nothing that could be identified or confused as referring to sexual ability of either men or women was talked about in the post.

Perhaps exhibit B contains a thread (heh) of wisdom?

Notice the complete lack of giving me a straight answer. Instead, the first sentence goes into semantics completely missing the point. Then the commentator creature resorts to divining from my two sentences that I hate women. After that, she qualifies herself to me. Already self-selects herself from my potential dating in a fit of “You can’t fire me, I quit!” emotion. The last sentence does not really make much sense.

Onward to exhibit C.

Right away you notice a complete lack of a straight answer. She cannot divulge her N-count despite having “no qualms with [her] number.” Then she distracts from the main point of conversation by calling me stupid and my writing here bad. No answer to my question in sight. More of the “you can’t fire me, I quit!” words spilling and projection of the hurt I am ‘supposed’ to feel hearing this. Woe is me. I wonder how much of my writing she has read? The last ten posts have been a collection of poems, haikus, and pictures from my travels.

There you have it – the average female commentator arguments. They consist of exactly what you may have expected. Filler, bitterness, emotion, and a distinct lack of logic. And they wonder why they are not taken seriously.

She was twice as big as me outstretched ‘ands!