During the entire history of humanity there have always been so-called "urban legends". The modern times are no different and, on the contrary, urban legends have only become even more easily widespread thanks to the proliferation of newspapers, magazines, radio and TV, and quite obviously with the internet it skyrocketed: Where centuries ago it could take years for an urban legend to spread by any significant amount, and decades ago it could take years, in the era of the internet it could take mere days.
Some urban legends are completely harmless and innocuous, as they just make people believe a silly thing that nevertheless doesn't affect their lives or how they behave. Then there are the more harmful urban legends that actually do affect how people behave and what they do, sometimes even in dangerous or detrimental ways. There are also urban legends that have spawned entire cults and conspiracy theories.
Then there are the stranger urban legends that have had a huge amount of influence among people who believe it (and usually refuse to believe otherwise, no matter how much counter-evidence is presented to them.)
One of the strangest ones is the urban legend that collecting soda can tabs and sending them somewhere will help fund wheelchairs or medical procedures for elderly people. Not the cans themselves, but just the tabs.
This urban legend has existed for many decades, starting at least in the 1980's, probably even the 1970's. It might be not as widespread today anymore, but it was still going strong in the 1990's.
Incredibly, a very strange "quasi-cult" formed around this urban legend: Not only would people who believed it spend copious amounts of time detaching and collecting these soda can tabs (again, just the tabs, not the cans themselves) and sending them to somewhere where they collect them, but entire voluntary transport supply chains formed in many countries.
Indeed, there were people who volunteered their time to collect these thousands and thousands of aluminum tabs from some town, and transport them somewhere else, to someone else who got supplied by several such people, and who would then themselves further transport them to the next person up the chain. Entire supply networks formed, especially in the 80's and 90's, in many countries, all on a voluntary basis.
Many investigative journalists have tried to find out where exactly these soda can tabs end up, and it's always the same story: It's always a dead end. They interview these people and ask who they are transporting the tabs to, and it's always someone else in the supply chain. The reporters follow this trail, often consisting of even a dozen different people, a dozen different "levels" in the network, and the result is always the same: Eventually they hit a dead end, where they just can't find the next person or entity in the supply chain. And, of course, nobody of the people they interview know where the tabs are going; it's always just the next person in the chain. They don't know, nor really care, where that person then transports them to.
There doesn't appear to be any kind of conspiracy or secret organization behind it. It appears that this kind of extremely large and complex endless supply chain, which always just ends in some kind of dead end where nobody knows where the next link is, has somehow arisen spontaneously, as a kind of emergent behavior: Volunteers have just showed up to become a part of the huge network of supplies, each bringing the tabs to someone else, until the next one in the chain just can't be found and nobody really knows about it.
Any authority or any other such person who knows about this strange supply chain always tells what should be rather obvious: There is no organization or entity that collects these soda can tabs and funds wheelchairs or anything. Such a thing doesn't exist. Nobody has ever got any wheelchair or medical procedure thanks to these tabs. There is no record anywhere of such an entity, or where the tabs ultimately end. For all they know they end buried in some warehouse somewhere ("waiting" to be transported somewhere), or they end up in a landfill, or something.
Or perhaps someone along the line just sells them to a recycling station for a few dollars worth of money, and keeps that money for himself (which, in fact, is the most likely end point of the entire chain.) In fact, many suspect, the last person in the chain who allegedly "gives it to someone else further in the chain" but doesn't really know who, is likely to just bring them to a recycling center and pocketing the money. Obviously those people are very hush-hush about it. Or it may be that next unknown anonymous person in the chain.
It's also pointed out that, rather obviously, the soda can tabs, no matter how many tons of them are collected, are not even nearly valuable enough to fund any wheelchairs or expensive medical procedures. Ironically, the soda cans themselves, from which these tabs are detached, would be more valuable, but even those could perhaps barely fund one wheelchair, if enough metric tons of them were collected. But, as mentioned, there is no organization that does this. Nobody has ever gotten any wheelchair or anything else thanks to these soda tabs.
Yet, the people who keep (or at least kept in the 90's and early 2000's) detaching and transporting these soda can tabs are True Believers. No amount of evidence will convince them otherwise. In fact, when they are presented the evidence that what they are doing is useless and nobody is getting any wheelchairs, they just say that "you don't know what you are talking about, so you should shut up."
This even though they literally have no idea where the tabs are going, what this supposed organization or entity is, or who has ever got a single wheelchair or medical procedure thanks to it. They just firmly believe they exist, even though they don't know who or where.
It's an extremely strange "quasi-cult".
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