“Have you ever been to a tar rally?” I asked a friend recently.
“What’s a tar rally?” he naturally asked.
I thought for a moment of the endless “protests” that are taking place in the world right now, where angry-looking people march through the streets of cities carrying hand-made signs with scribbled slogans and shouting chants. Their faces are contorted with such venom that I cringe whenever I see photographs of them, wondering what could possibly have filled them with so much poison.
Calling these protests “tar rallies” might seem, at first, like an oversimplification, but sometimes they appear to have emerged out of the tar on the tar-lined streets, protesting the things that the tar symbolizes: the colliding philosophies, ideologies, religions, and attitudes that inevitably arise in overcrowded cities (and countries). These cities (and countries) pride themselves, strangely, on housing swelling mishmashes of people who should never, ever, ever be drawn together in a single geographical entity; the modern mind seems to have embraced many obviously irrational ideas, all in the name of a false and elusive “tolerance.”
Sometimes, the protesters seem to be protesting for the sake of protesting, as if the malaise of the modern world has produced a chronic misery which demands the most inane, most vulgar, most barbaric expressions. Ultimately, the protests seem very much like tar rallies indeed, people who have gathered on the tar to protest the tar itself.