One of my favorite Donald Trump subplots bubbling under all the other chaos is his frequent ponderings over the fate of his soul. Trump is fast approaching his 80th birthday, and it seems he’s becoming rapidly aware that the Grim Reaper is shadowing him and impatiently tapping his hourglass with a bony finger.
So, once Trump’s body has breathed its last, what’s next for his immortal soul? Over the summer, this question has clearly been on his mind. In August he said, “I want to try and get to heaven if possible” and just last week told reporters:
