Utilitarianism or "Kill the Poets"

Thus, in the act of categorization, we are stripping the other of its otherness.  Or as Nietzche might have said, we are, in a sense, filing down a coin until it has lost its distinctive character, until you know not the country from which it originated, until the face that appears on it is unrecognizable.  When you use the word "cat", you are not referring to some idealized form which gives cats their substance.  Rather, you are viciously robbing millions of felines of their identity by putting them in a box so you can "get a handle" on them.  For securing a conceptual handle is the first step on the long road to hegemony, to dominance.

Thus forms, categories, universals are man made.  We make them by combining the "other" with the "the" and stripping the other of its otherness.  It is as if we are paring down a beautiful branch, once burgeoning with leaves in their multiple fall colors, stripping it thereof, and paring down its tip until it forms an arrow.

From categories, we move to language.  We'll discuss the structure of language in a little bit more detail later,  but all sentences, all declarations are composed, in part, of "objects" - subjects, nouns etc., - that relate to each other through verbs, which themselves involve the four pillars (the "and", the "or", the "the" and the "other".)  And objects are forms or categories.  In the sentence, "the cat caught the mouse," we have two categories: a category we have conquered by slitting the throats of millions of cats, and another category we have derived from running billions of mice through mazes until they've lost their individual spirit.

Man uses categories, and language, to get a handle on things so he can dominate them.  Language is largely a tool, like mathematics, science etc., which man uses to subjugate others.  Language strips individuals of their identities. In its crudest form, it is a weapon, what was once a beautiful branch, flush with leaves of various hues, that we have stripped away and honed into a spear.   There is nothing beautiful about it.   Poets are magicians, who somehow make dead branches, well honed spears,  appear beautiful; they are illusionists. They show us tools, and pretend they're showing us something else.  They are frauds!!!!! They must be stopped!!!.