Sylvia Browne couldn’t predict a breeze during a hurricane, yet she’s invited each and every year to appear on The Montel Williams Show (yeah, I thought it was canceled in the '90s, too), to share prophesies from her crystal ball of bullshit.

I’m not sure of how the process works you embrace the money hungry habitual liar within, but I think I’ve watched enough Dionne Warwick and Cleo commercials to fake it learn the gift, so indulge me and read my predictions for the New Year. If I get most of them right, I’m sending this entry to Sally Jesse Raphael. That still comes on, right?

Kelly Rowland will re-release Ms. Kelly, and will [finally] get the solo stardom she’s destined for. Hahaha. Sike.

LeToya Luckett will sell more than Kelly…again.

Monica will stop singing songs as if she just came out of the fryer at Church’s, leading her to sell more than 7 albums this time around. (Yes, I’m one of those 7 people who bought The Makings of Me.)

Beyonce will refuse to take a vacation. She will endorse at least three more products, rush out two singles by year’s end, and will find even bigger fans to blow her Indian lace fronts on stage.

Brandy will release a song hotter than her driving record.

Jessica Simpson will continue on her path to becoming white people’s answer to Vivica A. Fox.

Michael Jackson's weave game will continue to stunt on you hoes.

A Pimp Named Slickback is sure to keep on touting his penchant for both paler women and baby wipes.

The much lauded “meaning” being the title of Nas’ forthcoming album, Nigger, will translate into publicity stunt. Folks will call it deep anyway.

Pissy won’t go to jail, but will be seen at a McDonalds Playland near you. He'll also release “Trapped In The Closet: Part 27.”

Puffy's baby mama drama won't stop, 'cause it can't stop.

Rihanna will finally find a new outfit not inspired by S&M. She will only get bigger next year. I might stop hating.

T-Pain will be featured on 800 more songs. We will all get one step closer to determining whether or not he's sprinkling crack on his tracks.

It will dawn on Ciara that no one else is buying The Evolution of Ciara. She'll meet up with Jazze Phae at a Golden Coral and begin work on a new album.

Britney Spears will prolong her real comeback, opting instead to serve as pop music's own Elly May Clampett.

Lil Wayne - the best D.A.R.E. ad made stateside - will give even more interviews high, making all non pill-poppers feel good about themselves. His abilities to rhyme words like 'stork' and 'fork' will keep him hailed as the best in the game.

Look for his British counterpart, Amy Wino, at a corner near you.

Some other little illiterate, non-rhyming teenager will come up with a dance that won't make an ounce of sense. I'll do it in the club anyway.

DJ Khaled will keep yelling at us on every song.

The Making of the Band winners will have another hit season, then drop an album, will start moving some units, then Puffy will decide to stop promoting the album, compelled by the spirit to re-release Press Play and boss hog the spotlight.