“If you’re gonna set sights — crosshairs, laser dot, whatever — on a target, don’t point it at your own people.”

The Committee members mumbled, some agreeing, some disagreeing, some simply burping from a good Christmas Eve dinner of cooked goose and foot-in-mouth.

“We need a good war and we need soldiers who know their true enemies, not somethin’ like the ‘guv’ment’ or their own children, but somethin’ more real and worthy of our high esteem.”

Stomachs grumbled and antacid tablets were passed around the table.

“What we have here is the proverbial failure to communicate our message clearly out in the open so our soldiers know their targets and enemies know they’ve been targeted.”

Bottles of eggnog, heavy on the nog, were guzzled.

“We have messed up for too long putting the friends and opponents on the same list — Ruralites, Urbanskis, Suburbanians, Entitlementists, and Provisionists. It’s time we separate the wheat from the chaff!”

The older, deafer members, thinking they heard the word “chafe,” scratched their crotches.

“We need to attack while the numbers are in our favour! We need to preserve our way of life!”

The leader of the Subcommittee for the Investigation of Subculture Incitation stood up. “I have rallied the troops of my family. We held a private meeting and swore an oath of allegiance over a copy of the American Patriots Bible. We are ready not only to defend our home way of life but to take our message to the streets!”

More mumbling, grumbling, throat clearing and seat adjustment raised the general background of the wall of sound, the noise floor.

“Well, then, it’s time to act. We will use the failings of the fiscal cliff negotiations as our signal that if the pigs feeding from the guv’ment trough aren’t going to slim down, then we’re going to stop socialism in its tracks by cutting off their slop feedings!”

The banner of an angry mob with pitchforks and muskets was torn down and replaced with a new banner — organised units of neighbourhoods which had secretly practiced for this moment by sending their sons and daughters to the government military training centres for receipt of free food and tactical maneuver methods.

“OUR TIME IS NOW! THE MOMENT OF REVOLUTION IS OURS! LET US LOOSE THE CHAINS OF SOCIOECONOMIC TYRANNY THAT HAVE ENSLAVED US FOR TOO LONG!”

The bottles of antacid were completely drained.

The Committee members quietly exited the room, slipping into the subcultures from which they were direct the attacks — cyberwar, mass media disruption, etc.

Phase 2 was launched. May your God(s) have mercy on your souls and sort out the believers in their afterlives…