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The Daily Tar Heel

UNC Star Charts: Wash Your Dreads, Hippies

I'm a cancer, although this comes as no surprise to many of you out there who have been saying all along, "that Povill kid's nothing but a damned cancer."

Still, it bugs me to be forever associated with the "silent killer" (not to be confused with the "silent-but-deadly," with which I am also often associated).

To make matters worse, the animal that represents cancers is the crab. Yes, we're crabs. As if cancer didn't carry enough negative connotations, they throw some pubic lice into the mix, just for good measure.

I don't know anything about how cancers act. I'm not one of those people who refers to a star chart to decide which way to wipe their ass. I read my horoscope about once a year, and I have about as much faith in its predictions as I have in the UNC Honor Court and its rulings.

Nevertheless, our current system of astrology has shat on me for too long, so to spite it and all the brainwashed imbeciles who regard it as the gospel, I've come up with my own version of the Zodiac. If it catches on, maybe they'll print it on placemats at Chinese restaurants.

The different signs are based on several factors, such as eye color, shoe size, lung capacity, belly-button type, average heart rate and most importantly, favorite "Cosby Show" episode.

In my system, however, you are free to choose which sign you want to be under depending on whether you like a particular horoscope, much like the way people try to pass off bad fortune cookie fortunes onto others.

There are only six signs, partly for simplicity, partly because I'm too lazy to think of any others. They are: Hippie, Dopey, Squeaky, Croakie, Gandhi and Julius.

HIPPIE: Today is a six. You will realize you're a filthy bastard and decide to shower today. Your refusal to wash your fake hippie dreadlocks, however, will render all your cleansing activities useless. Then, you'll play hackey-sack until you fall asleep, dreaming of the day Widespread opens for Phish.

DOPEY: Today is an eight. Ponder trivial matters for hours while eating and giggling. Today is a good day to order Domino's Monster Feast. Enjoy it while you can, as your proverbial well is running dry. If your parents call, have your roommates tell them you're at the library studying.

SQUEAKY: Today is a four. After buying a jacket from The North Face and Diesel jeans with the money your parents gave you in an attempt to buy your love, you should drive back to the house very cautiously, as Chapel Hill drivers can be perilous for you and your Ford Explorer. Tonight, you should wear tight black pants and emit a shrill, deafening squeal every time you see one of your sisters uptown.

CROAKIE: Today is a five. Your day is spent drinking on your house porch and letting your hair grow. You make plans to go to a mixer with your favorite Squeaky, but pass out too early after a heated argument with brothers over which Dave Matthews Band album is the best.

GANDHI: Today is a two. Beware of Hippies who try to infiltrate your activist circles. The Daily Tar Heel provides a wealth of racist, sexist or otherwise bigoted material. Scan its pages feverishly while composing angry letters to the editor about how you are outraged that such trash would be printed in a college newspaper, although it comes as no surprise to you because the DTH is filled with Anarchists, Nihilists and Commies.

JULIUS: Today is a 10. You spend your morning hunting down and viciously beating all the basketball fans who have the audacity to wear a "Doherty's Disciples" shirt yet leave the Dean Dome with three minutes left in the game. Then you mercilessly pummel whoever came up with "Doherty's Disciples" in the first place, knowing that a more appropriate foil to the Cameron Crazies would be the "Dean Dome Developmentally-Challenged." The rest of the day is spent flexing.

David Povill can be reached at

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