My advice as you enter this final week of the National Football League season, that stretch of the calendar that has become the New England Patriots’ birthright: Enjoy it.

Fully, thoroughly enjoy it. Celebrate it with self-assurance rather than self-defense. Every ounce of wasted energy directed at the uninitiated is like walking out to take a bathroom break and missing a historic scene in a motion picture that shall never, ever, be repeated.

Stop worrying about the diorama in a 10-year-old Kentucky kid’s science project or the diarrhea-of-the-mouth that afflicts everyone with a microphone. Rest in the knowledge that all this absurdity has been repudiated a thousand times over.

The Patriots are merely padding the resume. They’re proving wrong the common perception that there are no social castes within immortality. They deliver a valedictory speech almost every time they take the field in January or February.

Of course the world hates that. If excellence isn’t an endangered species, it isn’t for society’s shortage of attempts to question and belittle it at turn. That’s a phenomenon that now bottlenecks every avenue of life and tragically will only get worse as it’s spoon-fed to each generation. It is hardly unique to the analysis of sports dynasties.

Who really cares that a couple of morning-show characters, likely unable to summon the names of five Patriots not named Tom Brady, Julian Edelman or Rob Gronkowski, believe Brady’s showing signs of decline at 41?

Forty-one! Shoot, I remember John Elway being three years younger than that, making the tearful declaration that he simply couldn’t handle the physical grind any longer. Joe Montana and Troy Aikman’s bodies made the decision for them even younger than that.

There’s a vested interest for middle-aged men bashing Brady. His continued world-class success in a time when they’re getting paunchy, punchy and hypertensive hurts their feelings.

It also dwarfs the accomplishments of larger-than-life personalities enshrined in these naysayers’ personal NFL holy of holies. There’s no time machine to bring those dudes out of retirement, so it’s easier to try and revise history while it’s happening.

Ignorance in the viral era seems to make us angry when it should evoke pity. I feel sorry for these people, because in addition to abject failure at enjoying an otherworldly epoch in team sport, they cling to the most intellectually lazy and/or bankrupt thought process imaginable.

Of course this run will end soon. Hard to imagine why that’s worthy of being shared and re-shared on a thrice-daily basis. It’s like predicting there will be another bout of winter weather after Groundhog Day, or that government will end up gridlocked. You’ll be able to say I-told-you-so eventually.

The Patriots’ dynasty has been on borrowed time for 15 years. In the 1990s, the NFL so badly wanted to separate itself from the metronomic predictability of the NBA (Chicago Bulls) and MLB (New York Yankees) that it countered the Dallas Cowboys’ three-out-of-four sequence by slapping on financial handcuffs to keep it from happening again.

Lo and behold, an old AFL franchise that couldn’t get out of its own way needed only eight years to beat the system. Then, after a decade of reinventing itself (while still reaching multiple Super Bowls and treating its division as a little brother), they’re about to finish the other bookend and win three out of five.

Oh, and they’ve done it with Brady, Bill Belichick and a cast of interchangeable parts. Don’t ever forget those two won a Super Bowl without Gronkowski and reached another without Edelman when both were injured in their prime.

Also let the record show they’ve won consistently while rarely using the same featured back in consecutive way, and while allowing almost every starting offensive or defensive lineman or defensive back worth a nickel slip away to someone else who wanted to pay them too many dimes.

You may remember Super Bowl XLIX between the Patriots and Seahawks. It ended with one of those infamous “lucky” twists the detractors say this team always gets (notice the Pats get little to no credit for getting in those teams’ heads the way they invade everyone else’s, rent free, and forcing those mistakes).

In any case, that game took place a whopping four years ago, and 39 of the 53 names on the Patriots’ roster have turned over. Four of those (Stephen Gostkowski, Ryan Allen, Matthew Slater, Nate Ebner) are special teams players. Another (James Develin) is a fullback, a position devoid of analytical data that the rest of the league has deemed obsolete. Still another (James White) is an all-purpose back.

You know, it’s almost as if the Patriots have figured out what matters, continuing to address football as the ultimate team game while the rest of the world treats it as a fantasy league.

None of this makes sense, and none of it will be replicated by the Patriots or anyone else once this superlative supervisor/signal caller combination scrapes every last morsel from the plate.

Savor it. Don’t sweat it. You’ll be boring the great-grandchildren with details of this era long after we’ve all forgotten the names of the fools who failed to fully appreciate it.

Kalle Oakes spent 27 years with the Sun Journal sports department. He is now sports editor of the Georgetown (Kentucky) News-Graphic. Keep in touch with him by email at kaloakes1972@yahoo.com or on Twitter @oaksie72.