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One of my favorite episodes of Seinfeld is the one where Kramer finagles his way into working at a company where he's not actually employed. He goes to the office every day, attends meetings, and writes business reports. But he's not on the payroll. Kramer's "boss" ultimately fires him, citing his lousy performance. "There's just no way we could keep you on," he tells him.

Truly distraught, Kramer says, "But I don't even work here."

"That's what makes this so difficult," laments his boss.

I laugh out loud every time I watch that scene. But it's hard to laugh at Kramer's antics these days.

By now you've probably seen the incriminating video of actor Michael Richards onstage at a Los Angeles comedy club. After being heckled by a couple of black men in the audience, Richards snaps, cutting loose with a lengthy rant that features not only a generous helping of the N-word but also a vicious reference to lynching ("Fifty years ago, we'd have you upside down … "). One woman in the stunned audience can be heard uttering, "Oh my God!"

Richards was great as Jerry Seinfeld's zany neighbor Cosmo Kramer. He imbued the character with just the right mix of lunacy, earnestness, and desperation. His nervous twitches and nonsensical outbursts made him a loveable nutcase—certifiably crazy, yet somehow charming in his madness.

That's why it was so shocking to see him erupting into hateful rage during his standup routine. Everyone expects Kramer to be "out of control," but not like this.

Seeing Richards's explode was like learning that a favorite performer has died. No one wants to believe a guy whose talents you've enjoyed for so long is actually a bigot. Yet there it was; the cell-phone video doesn't lie.

Days later, while appearing on David Letterman's Late Show to offer an apology to "Afro-Americans" (or whatever we're calling ourselves these days), Richards said, "I'm not a racist! That's what's so insane about this." His appearance on the program was both sad and disturbing. The actor seemed genuinely confused by his actions, shocked by his own inner fury.

In the days following the event, civil-rights pundits went into high gear, denouncing Richards as a racist and holding him up as just one more example of why things haven't changed much. Richards hired Howard Rubinstein, a crack PR manager, to do damage control, and soon the comedian was on the Rev. Jesse Jackson's syndicated radio program, offering further mea culpas. "I'm shattered by it," he said. "The way this came through me was like a freight train." He told Jackson that the rant was triggered by anger, not bigotry. He was humiliated onstage and wanted to hurt those who had hurt him.

But can someone honestly dissect bigotry from the malicious use of racial epithets? Probably not. Racism, like other sins, would ask us to call it by a less harmful-sounding name. In the final analysis, however, sin is sin. And, frankly, who among us hasn't found himself astonished by the degree of depravity within? "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I don't do, but what I hate I do," said the apostle Paul in a tongue twister reminiscent of, well, Cosmo Kramer (Rom. 7:15).

As an African American, I suppose I should be infuriated by Richards's tirade. Yet I cannot help feeling sympathy for the man. I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt. Call me gullible, but I believed him when he said he was sorry. I think he was telling the truth when he said he had no idea where that rage was coming from.

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November (Web-only) 2006, Vol. 50