Bill Belichick was born in April 1952. That makes him 73. Jordon Hudson is 24. Waste Management picks up my garbage cans every Friday, except on certain holidays. And Jollibee Food Corporation, some Philippines-based conglomerate, bought out the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf (CBTL) corporation for $650 million in 2019. CBTL has more than 1,000 stores, and is a competitor to Starbucks. If you have been reading me these past ten years, you know I am an Orthodox congregational rabbi, practiced and taught American civil law for 20 years, was MAGA before the slogan was coined, and am loving the first quarter of the baseball season, with both New York teams leading their respective divisions. As they say among Ivy League presidents, that is the context. I care deeply that those Philippine coffee mongers bought out CBTL. Until they messed up a small part of my life six years ago, at least I had one single place in all of Orange County, California, where I could go for a bagel, a tuna sandwich, or a croissant. If in the mood, I could bring my wife. I could meet there with law students who wished to discuss their grades or their lives. I could take law clients there. And my favorite Christian pastor and a very special personal friend, Pastor John Blue, could meet me there to talk about G-d, coffee, his professional NHL career as a goalie for the Boston Bruins, our kids, and more about G-d. You see, Coffee Bean was kosher. Not only their coffee, which can be true of any coffee shop from Starbucks to Peet’s to the local brew, but Coffee Bean’s ownership made it their business to have all their everything in the stores strictly kosher, under rabbinical supervision. The syrups. The pastries. The sandwiches. Everything. In a region that is so bereft of kosher establishments that you can’t even go to a pizza store, there was Coffee Bean. At least I had somewhere to take people out — for something. The only other two kosher establishments available: Krispy Kreme and Baskin-Robbins. Both those are kosher-certified, but how could I invite a serious law client for a business meeting there? Or a law student on Ozempic? Krispy Kreme was primarily for December — Chanukah season — and jelly donuts. And Baskin-Robbins was exclusively for my wife and me the day after my monthly blood labs would come back. A1C under 6.0? Let’s go to Krispy Kreme or B-R. Over 6.0? Let’s go there anyway; I can dilute the sugar during the rest of the month. Cholesterol under 200? B-R. Under 200 but with antisemitic LDL and Triglycerides numbers? B-R anyway. Otherwise, nowhere to go out. And then the Philippines guys buy out Coffee Bean, switch everything to non-kosher, and I can’t even order a bagel there anymore. Imagine: a place where a rabbi cannot order a bagel. This I care about. I also care about when Waste Management picks up the garbage. If I forget to roll out the cans on Thursday night, it is worse than missing a court date. That means I have no room for the next week’s garbage to accumulate. Yes, I came up with a back-up plan: If I forget thee, O Garbage Cans, then I will dump all the next week’s detritus in the dumpster ten minutes away from home, behind the Coffee Bean of the Philippines. But I can’t. Someone might be passing by, see the Rabbi doing that, and ask for a selfie with me. But that’s the sum of what I care about besides the basic stuff: my family’s well being, America being strong, Israel being safe, my congregants being satisfied and fulfilled in their lives, and Newsom soon being out so that, as he frantically builds his credentials to next run for president, he suddenly acts to throw the homeless off the streets and, maybe, to permit plastic straws and showerheads that are not just for show but actually allow water to flow at a speed faster than the stream typified by a urology patient combating nocturia. That’s what matters: Coffee Bean going non-kosher. Missing the Morning Glory of Trash Day. But I do not care a whit about Belichick and Jordon. I know that America is great again, that the memory of Biden (a moron’s oxymoron) is past tense, when all we Americans need to fill our news and conversations is Belichick and Jordon. Why do they matter? Really, a serious question. Their appearances, their ages, anything about them? Why do they matter — everyday in the news and on TV — and why does their age gap matter? Do we actually have so much empty room in our heads that they deserve a four-suite spread inside them without their paying the proverbial rent? I personally don’t “get” it, but the lawyer and rabbi in me have taught me how to “get” that other people need to be absorbed with it daily. Belichick once was a legend as a football coach, a coach for the Ages. And then Tom Brady left the Patriots, and all of football history will be mired in the great debate: Was he ever a good coach? For football fans who love following the sport, it is an intellectually stimulating controversy. It forces people who follow such things to analyze deeper whether superficial truths ignore less compelling realities. If Belichick never was any good, but Brady made him so, it is fair to wonder whether certain men — myself included — ever would have achieved great things without the extraordinary wives who stood cold in our shadows but were the wind beneath our wings. Would great achievers ever have achieved without the unsung heroes on their teams, standing and contributing alongside them? Would Ronald Reagan have been positioned to change history if not for Nancy Davis influencing his career priorities? It not only is an interesting question, worthy of discussion, but it can give rise to important revelations for one’s own development. And to help us better appreciate our spouses and to choose them wisely in the first place. But why should any of us care if a 73-year-old man now consorts openly with a 24-year old girl? They are open, no sneaking around. Is it that we are jealous? I am not. I don’t think most of us are. What do they talk about? If she was born at the start of the millennium, has she heard of the Twin Towers? Did she ever learn about Pearl Harbor? Ozzie and Harriet? Martin Luther King or a Kennedy without a suffix? And when she does talk to him — about anything — can he hear it? Does it matter? Is he going out of his way to “show off” his pal? How does his life affect me? You? Does it matter whether he uses Viagra, Cialis, or Alprostadil injections? Why would it? Is she a gold digger? Why should I care? Or maybe they are soulmates, whose very names were declared loudly by a Divine Voice in the Heavens, when each was born, as intended for the other? Why care? Honestly, why care? She is not digging your or my gold. You don’t need to make sure she has access to Clearasil. There is something deeper here besides the very obvious benefit for a septuagenarian of having someone nearby to explain how to use TikTok or Instagram. It bothers me deeply that others become obsessed with other people’s business when there is no point. Yes, there is reason to care when society starts forcing effeminate boys and masculine girls — and their parents — to believe that they never will grow into perfectly fine cisgendered people but must immediately tag themselves as homosexual or lesbian. It is even more viciously evil and criminal when players intervene and con these children and their parents to believe they are boys born into girts’ bodies, or vice-versa, and need to undergo a sex change that will destroy their lives, defacing them, cutting off their precious organs, forcing them onto a mistaken lifetime of horribly severe chemicals, a mistake they never will be able to reverse. That is despicable, and society has the power to stop much of that, cut off the public funding of sex-change procedures in the military, prisons, and elsewhere. That matters. But Belichick and Jordon do not matter. When Sen. Strom Thurmond, age 66, married his state’s beauty contest winner, age 22, tongues wagged. Even so, they remained actively married for the next 23 years before separating. They had four kids, and Thurmond even outlived one of them. Belichick and Jordon do not belong in the headlines or in our minds. They are two grownups. Whether they both are deeply in love, or Belichick is a golddigger trying to get her beauty contest money, or she needs him as an entry point to meet Tom Brady is none of my business. My business is my wife and kids, my congregation, and my country. Aren’t those your priorities, too? Do you see how — even in this — the corrupt Fake News misleads us, with fake journalism, into thinking that something meaningless is important to know? But I do wonder: Is the new Qatari “Air Force One” that they just gifted to President Trump manufactured from parts of Malaysia Flight 370? Subscribe to Rav Fischer’s YouTube channel here at bit.ly/3REFTbk  and follow him on X (Twitter) at @DovFischerRabbi to find his latest classes, interviews, speeches, and observations. To be invited to attend his three weekly Zoom classes, send a request to rabbi@yioc.org The post Bill Belichick, Crossing the Jordon, and My Morning Croissant appeared first on The American Spectator | USA News and Politics.