8 – Interview with Allison Jornlin of Milwaukee Ghosts: The Short Life and Tragic Death of Peaches Geldof

Today we welcome special guest Allison Jornlin to the show. Allison is the founder of Milwaukee Ghosts  Tours and  has been researching strange events and paranormal occurrences for years. Today she brings us an interesting story from the entertainment world: That of Peaches Honeyblossom Geldof (1989 – 2014), daughter of Bob Geldof. Bob was front man for the Boomtown Rats (whose biggest hit, “I Don’t Like Mondays” was about a school shooting in 1979), star of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”, social activist, organizer of Band Aid & Live Aid, and from the sounds of things, a pretty darn decent human being.

Bob’s daughter, Peaches Geldof, was a British “celebrity princess” who passed away at the young age of 25 due to a heroin overdose. During her short time on earth, she searched for meaning in life through various religions and mysticism. Her search led her to explore Scientology, Judaism, and eventually Aleister Crowley and the O.T.O. (Ordo Templi Orientis), an occult highly known for its involvement in magic and the paranormal.

Peaches had some frightening ghostly encounters, not the least of which a selfie  she shared on Instagram  (with hashtags #haunted #ghost) in which a “mystery ghost hand” can be seen. She believed the ghost was a woman who had previously occupied the house and had drowned herself after giving birth to a stillborn baby. Peaches had a premonition of her own death not long before the tragic drug overdose that took her life.

Who cries for the rich girl?
who cries for the tramp?
Who cries for the little addict that can’t get it together, man.

We all say so sad,
we knew your dad,
at least on TV,
at least it’s not me.

Who cries for the scapegoat,
the never were and never could be,
who cries for the pretty ones,
so lost and empty.

We all say so sad,
we knew your dad,
at least on TV,
at least it’s not me.
What a waste,
but there never was another way.
You paid the price,
a beautiful sacrifice.
The cost of being so lucky,
They always come in threes,
At least it’s not me.

High class pets in a velvet cage,
We’ll keep you until you age.
Human trash doesn’t recycle,
you’re as good as your news cycle.

We all say so sad,
we knew your dad,
at least on TV,
at least it’s not me.
What a waste,
but there never was another way.
You paid the price,
a beautiful sacrifice.
The cost of being so lucky,
They always come in threes,
At least it’s not me.

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