Contradicting the mythology about children and dogs as judges of character, small children are not necessarily mind readers. Still, one of my early childhood memories is of classifying adults vaguely but sometimes validly into “nice faces” and “mean faces.” Generally, of course, that meant friendly versus frowning. Adulthood has brought more knowledge of reasons why grownups might frown or be preoccupied.

One day when I was four years old, I was sitting with my young mother in a medical waiting room. She was pregnant with my little brother, and this was in a small town in East Texas; I cannot remember whether it was a physician’s office or a hospital lobby. She must have been there for some kind of checkup. I do not remember it as being big even by my size standards at the time. Several other adults were seated around, with the typical end tables and reading material.

Looking curiously around the waiting room, I spotted – and this is a very cloudy memory, by now – one woman who seemed to have a “nice face” under her “mean face.” I do not remember how long I puzzled about the palimpsest effect, but it led me to do a four-year-old’s version of good deed: I went over to some magazines, got one out – probably something inappropriate, automobiles or farm implements -- and took it over, across the waiting room and into the circle of adults, and handed it to the lady with something along the lines of “This is for you” or “Would you like a magazine?”

She broke into a big smile, and sure enough, she did have a nice face.

Given the setting, she was probably worried. (Everyone in the waiting room thought this was cute, so I raisined up into a paroxysm of shyness and hid with my mother.) Her overlay of “meanness” was probably being careworn about a family member or illness or doctor’s bills, and I must have had a four-year-old’s pride in guessing right, my short insight vindicated.

But not all anecdotes end happily, you can’t judge a book by its cover, and nobody is a mind reader. As a fan of Seinfeld reruns for several years, I am disappointed, but that Michael Richards rant at the LA Laugh Factory is beyond the pale.

Richards was caught on tape. This is not just a matter of the “n-word.”

To its credit, Entertainment Tonight showed a (bleeped) cut of Richards’ tirade. Richards kept on and on. He repeated the racist name-calling over and over again. He never let up until he walked off the stage. He expanded on the ethnic slurs with a couple of allusions, aired in edited form in the tape, too ugly to be quoted. According to people in the audience at the time, Richards also ranted about his wealth, presumably with some inference that he could buy his hecklers. (The tape shows audience members leaving.) And as said, he just kept on going and kept on going. Looking at the tape, one sees no indication that he even tried to contain himself. He did not stop until he exited, and when he came back, he did not apologize.

This from a comedian, presumably used to the rough-and-tumble of backstage life? He should be used to heckling, too. Hasn’t anybody pointed out to him lately, “Hey Michael, you’re a stand-up comic. Not a federal judge. If you can’t stand the heat . . .”?

This is already being called a “mistake,” as in something everybody makes. But I cannot understand the man. I am a Southerner who could state accurately before a notary that I have never used that tiresomely euphemized “n-word” epithet. Not using it is no sacrifice, either; not a concession, not a matter of self-restraint. I don’t like the ugly language, never did, and don’t want to use it. (There are names I’ve never called another woman, either.)

So what is up with Richards? Watching Seinfeld for years, we learn that there’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face. He seemed so harmless on television, seemed to have a “nice face.” But this tirade was not harmless. Some truly ugly attitudes about force and money underlie the racial ugliness. It is difficult to imagine what good purpose could be served by glossing them over.