|Jero's demon at rest|
Sethren, I have always taught that women are equal to men in every way—you who have been with me from the beginning of my ministry will remember that this is why we say sethren and not brethren. But this did not mean, sethren, that women were equal to me. In wisdom, judgement, and understanding. No, nor men neither, sether Albert.
Nevertheless, here I have to bow to a greater wisdom, the wisdom of the metaverse, and events therein. At a trivial level, sether Pritchard-Achebe-Wajda has a point. But that point merely emphasises my rightness. Suppose the piece of wood was pointless. Suppose sether Pritchard-Achebe-Wajda’s method rendered that piece of wood entirely redundant in any logical, mechanical, methodological sense. Why then, what do we have? We have a piece of kindling wood that has seized its chance, become a demon, inserted itself into a niche in the metaverse where there was no demand, no call for it, and, despite the fact that I used the actual piece of wood to light the fire two nights ago, is still there, in the metaverse, allying with other demons, with concepts, transmission of force, with things, hammers and bicycles, with acts, hitting the fucker with a rubber hammer. It is out there, its form and colour and use, in a digital image. If I had not burnt it (kindling is scarce on the Huddersfield ringroad, and the nights are growing cooler) it might have been preserved, found its place in the first great Museum of Evoculture, as the first demon to become known to the general run of humankind. But that is no matter. It exists, and may do so as long as the human species. It shall be called “Jero’s demon”, and in time, mayhap a Jero; and finally, when is fully integrated into the metaverse, just a jero, a common or garden ordinary word for a thing universally acknowledged.