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Thanksgiving is my favorite American holiday. Let me count some of the ways I love Thanksgiving: Because it isn’t very commercialized. Because it doesn’t leave out the lovelorn and the lonely. Because it has an intrinsic honesty: It’s about being grateful. Because it’s about as much extended family as most of us can take: just one day of them. Because there aren’t a lot of old movies — aired on other holidays — that get taken out of the movie mausoleum every year, like “Nightmare on Elm Street,” “Miracle on 34th Street” or that one about snow, “Holiday Inn,” and “The Ten Commandments.” Because the political class generally shuts up. It doesn’t feel necessary to make long atavistic speeches with dubious grandiloquence that no one believes, least of all the speakers. Because you don’t have to receive presents and lie to your close friends and family, “I always wanted a toy pig that burps,” or “Thank you for the lovely necktie. I’m sure they will come back into fashion in a few decades.” Because there are no flags or bunting, and most houses aren’t turned into glaring neon performance art, nor are there skeletons hanging from swing sets. Because you don’t have to wear a funny hat and red or green or any other color that signals that you are in the spirit of the event. Because when I worked on the newspapers, I could volunteer and get paid double or better in overtime for a shift on Thanksgiving Day. From my arrival at New York’s Idlewild Airport in 1963, I have been able to luxuriate in America’s bounty and give thanks. It wasn’t always easy being an immigrant, even one of favored language and provenance (British), and it didn’t spare me and my English wife, Doreen, from hard times. We had those. But America remained the mansion on the high ground where, if we were lucky, we could be let in to enjoy the riches of acceptance. My first experience of the United States — and I give thanks for it — was the taxi driver who, when he learned I had hardly any money, gave me a free guided tour of Manhattan, The Bronx and Brooklyn. Finally, he deposited me at an uncompromising address on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn, where I was to stay while I found work and before I sent for Doreen, my cherished first wife. It was a walk-up and there was no air conditioning. My hosts were an English couple in their 70s: Doreen’s aunt and her husband. She helped with newborns in wealthier people’s homes well into her old age. He had worked rather unsuccessfully as an industrial jeweler. They were palpably short of money and hadn’t enjoyed an easy life since arriving in America in 1918. Their story had a fairytale, extraordinary last volume. Out on Long Island, their grandson and granddaughter were growing up with a single mother, also in straitened circumstances. She worked with seedlings in a plant nursery. The grandson was to climb to the apex of achievement, to stun his family and, in time, the world with his talent. This young man and I would swim in Long Island Sound, where we would head for anchored yachts with people partying on board. A decade older than my companion, I always believed that when they looked down on the swimmers, the partiers would invite us aboard for food and drink. It never happened, but we enjoyed our aquatic adventures and social failure. If they had only known! As I said, that young man was destined to win all that his mother and grandparents didn’t have. His name is Billy Joel, the “Piano Man.” He is someone for all in America to be thankful for — proof that in the United States, the last can be first. — Llewellyn King is the executive producer and host of “White House Chronicle” on PBS. He wrote this for InsideSources.com .

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California Gov. Gavin Newsom is asking the state legislature to allocate $25 million so that the California Department of Justice will have the money necessary “to defend California from unconstitutional overreach.” Short of making Kamala Harris attorney general again, this is about the dumbest thing our DOJ could do. Which, according to my Newsom-to-English decoder ring, translates as follows: taxpayer money for nuisance lawsuits against the Trump administration with the sole intention of generating publicity for...Gavin Newsom. Clearly, we’re well into the next phase of his ‘I’m not running for president’ ruse. Next, an exploratory committee to consider the various reasons Newsom doesn’t plan to run for president. Then, an eye job or maybe a super-sized helping of Botox. Great. The state is going broke and Newsom wants to spend millions battling Trump. Meantime, California Attorney General and wannabe governor Rob Bonta says that $25 million may not even be enough for his office. At a Sacramento press conference Bonta called the sum “a down payment” and “a beginning not the end...We believe we will need to use all of it.” Boy, the way this guy Bonta throws other people’s money around – maybe he should be in the House of Representatives. Bonta is like one of those creepy slip-and-fall trial attorneys who specializes in shaking down the guys with the deepest pockets. I’m waiting to see a sleazy billboard alongside the 110 freeway in downtown LA. Maybe some bus stop benches with his menacing mug! This wouldn’t be the first time California Democrats have called a play from this playbook. In President Trump’s first term, then California Attorney General and current Secretary of Health and Human Services, Xavier Becerra, spent about $42 million over four years suing the federal government. Back to the present, right after Newsom and Bonta threatened to sue the Trump administration 15 ways from Sunday, they turned around and asked the federal government for billions of dollars to pay for the 2028 Summer Olympics! Talk about going for the gold! That had to make for some awkward exchanges down at the courthouse. “Okay, if everyone suing President Trump could form a line here, and everybody asking President Trump for a hand-out could form a line here...” Side note: why would you sue somebody on one hand and then ask them for a hand-OUT with the other? If there’s one thing us Hollywood folks can’t stand, it’s being two-faced. Last month, the Los Angeles Metropolitan Transportation Authority board wrote President-elect Trump a letter requesting $3.2 billion to improve public transportation for the 2028 Summer Games, calling the next Olympics to be held in the United States “the largest and most spectacular sporting event held in American history.” Which I think would come as something of a surprise to the producers of the next WWE pay per view. Related Articles Opinion Columnists | California’s housing crisis has gotten worse, not better, over the last 30 years Opinion Columnists | Jon Coupal: The Gann Limit is back in the news Opinion Columnists | End the IRS’s worldwide tax grab Opinion Columnists | Mass deportations are bad for everyone’s liberties Opinion Columnists | The draconian penalties that Hunter Biden escaped affect people whose fathers can’t save them The Los Angeles Times reported that in their letter, the board cited past contributions from the federal government to American Olympic hosts as $1.3 billion for the 2002 Winter Games in Salt Lake City and $609 million for the 1996 Summer Games in Atlanta, as justification for the request. Isn’t it interesting that California has plenty of money for performative lawsuits against the incoming Trump administration before anyone has even been sworn into office and done anything, but not enough money to get ready for the Olympics – which we were awarded back in 2017! What’s great about these stories is that they perfectly illustrate why government in California is in the pathetic state that it’s in: Our dearly elected leaders are primarily interested in political theatrics that generate celebrity and attention for themselves, at the same time that they have no interest in carrying out the basic duties of government that they were elected to perform. All gesture and no substance. That’s the Newsom way. Sorry, Gavin. This time you’re going to have to settle for the bronze. John Phillips can be heard weekdays from noon to 3 p.m. on “The John Phillips Show” on KABC/AM 790.