👉 Okay, let’s tackle this wonderfully…specific… bit of late-night, somewhat regionally-entric slang! Now, you haven’t stumbled upon a new breed of badger here; the word, frankly, is rather delightfully weird and a little prickly to unpack.
Essentially, a "Markos," as primarily historically found in some pockets of the American Midwest (particularly around Scranton, Pennsylvania, honestly—it's got that sort of lived-in, slightly forgotten vibe), referred to a guy who was… let’s just say, exceptionally, almost aggressively, unlucky. You wouldn't necessarily call him an “itimé," you get it? Instead, he was the human equivalent of repeatedly tripping over your own shoelaces while simultaneously being pelted by a rain of exploding goldfish.
Here’s what we basically mean: 1. He had a statistically improbable rate of bad luck. 2. This bad luck wasn't just "ugh, I stubbed my toe and now I have to walk the dog." We're talking about things like consistently losing your parking space
right after you finally find one
, having everything in your possession spontaneously deflate, or, and here is a key detail, of being inexplicably followed by pigeons who seem specifically designed to deposit…gifts... wherever he stands.
There isn’t a neat, pretty definition! You just kinda knew when you were around a Markos. He was the guy whose presence felt like