The day Ron Artest charged into the stands at the Palace of Auburn Hills to open up a can of whoop a$$ on that dork in the glasses is a day that will forever be etched in all of our memories. Who can forget how they felt at that moment? I remember the hodgepodge of emotions running through me at that point: fear (understandably), excitement (listening to Bill Walton, who was absolutely in the ZONE talking about how TERRIBLE this was for the NBA), glee (you gotta admit, when Artest hit the first guy, the guy who was screaming at him, thinking nothing was going to happen, it was pretty damn funny. Seriously, I almost wet myself. (No, YOU'VE got problems)

But you know what the strangest emotion I felt was? Jealousy. For two reasons:

1) I wasn't at the game. Can you imagine how awesome it must have been to be there, for one of the defining moments in NBA history? I mean, how many times have they showed that clip of Kermit Washington absolutely unloading on Rudy Tomjonovich back in the 70s? This was way better than that! This is going to be in our grandkids' history books! If only we were able to say that we were there.

2) Every one of those suckas who got cracked in the face is going to be rich rich rich. No, seriously, Scrooge McDuck-swimming-in-his-vault-of-gold-rich. As Quentin Richardson said, there are going to be a lot of people looking for some NBA money. Hell, I know I would have been! And here’s the kicker! None of them even got hurt! Not even the lame fat guy who ran onto the court to receive the full brunt of Jermaine O'Neal's running jump-punch (I'm thinking Jermaine would be perfect for a modern-day remake of "Enter the Dragon."). That guy was fine! Except in court, when I'm sure he'll be in both a wheelchair and a neckbrace.

My point is, these guys are making out like bandits. And do you know what they're going to say when they're out celebrating and they raise a glass? "I got punched by Artest."

- Anuj