MICHIGAN STREET MARK-BI-POLAR PARASITE EXTORTIONIST

Michigan street Mark is part of a highly organized , growing group of pathological poor people hell bent on intimidating rich people into giving up their hard won spare change.The fear that people feel when they drive their BMW out of the gated community is being exponentially exacerbated by the number of these unsavory tricksters blocking the view of department stores and Speedy marts on busy streets all over Grand Rapids.

Mark is also a liar.His cardboard sign reads "homeless, anything will help".When I bribed him with the seventy two cents I had worked my ass off for he gave up some crucial information.He, in fact, was currently vacationing in the posh, non-profit condo code named "Exodus". Exodus from a fuckin' job.Room 18. More like an 18 room bachelor pad, you-bet-your-hard-workin'- ass!

 Mark is a diagnosed schizophrenic but he readily admits to the fact that he considers that diagnoses to be a figment of his imagination.Does that sound crazy to you? Crazy like another welfare wizard genius livin' off the system.When I asked if he thought he was sick he gave me that phony inward stare that only endless hours of rehearsal can perfect, and said,"sure I hear voices sometimes. but it's not a big deal. I think everybody does". No argument hear, I hear a voice right now tellin' me to buggy-whip your freeloadin' ass down to the nearest restaurant to wash pots for .86 cents an hour cash money.

Mark says his thoughts are so poorly organized that he has trouble completing even the simplest tasks.He started working at nine years old digging on crews that installed swimming pools for his father. He is now 49 years old. He has spent most of his life in the contracting business, but, given his mental state can no longer hold a job
.He said he has a small house in the upper peninsula on a bit of land, He asks me if I have a car ,and could I give him a ride up there. Then, he affects that inward stare again and says, " I think I have a house, I'm pretty sure, anyway I could pay for gas when we get there." I told him I had to work. That'll teach him.

 I read a quote in an article claiming that people would not come to our town for Art Prize if we didn't deal with this plague of pan handlers pronto.Anyone with the sensibility to distinguish a sculpture from a hamster wheel should be capable of seeing this a a benign symptom of a social condition,

Mark does receive some food and treatment from a non-profit.He  readily admits that he begs for money for cigarettes, occasionally a beer, and the luxury of a Subway sandwich. A good 10 hour stint can bring him twenty plus dollars.

I can honestly say that I am dissapointed in Mark.I, at one point imagined he might be a clandestine,  Tea Party operative plotting to destroy entitlements programs from within, or a cagey entrepreneur taking handouts from dumbass, hippie, bleeding hearts and ultimately using that money to develop homeless shelters into more luxury condos downtown ,but that was just those voices in my head Mark mentioned. He's just somebody down on his luck, and suffering from the type of crazy that makes nobody money.

Someday ,maybe soon, I'll be on the opposite corner with a sign that reads "can't cook, can't write,need a ride to my imaginary house in  Yucatan".