So it starts with precisely the kind of gruesome, grisly, no-show, no-account performance you feared it would start with, equal parts pathetic and infuriating.

It starts with the Golden State Warriors pummeling the Knicks, clobbering them in every phase of the game, it starts with Stephen Curry and Klay Thompson making the Knicks’ guards look glacial, with David Lee throwing some thanks-for-the-memories haymakers at their bigs.

It starts with Carmelo Anthony back in the lineup but barely: looking tentative and shaky, looking rusty, looking like he wants no part of contact, which robs him of half his firepower.

It starts with an offense that looked barely competitive, barely competent, and a defense that looked even worse.

It starts with this damning assessment from Jason Kidd, who has seen a thing or three in his day: “We didn’t put up a fight.” And this from Mike Woodson: “Tonight, we had nothing.”

This western journey to oblivion starts in the worst way possible, the Warriors throttling the Knicks 92-63, exposing every flaw, exploiting every fault, having a hell of a time doing it, riling the crowd inside Oracle Arena, inspiring a wave of clicks all across New York, New Jersey and Connecticut as working folk realized there was no need to battle the snooze button over this one.

The only Knick with any sense was J.R. Smith, ejected for a flagrant foul with 6:51 left in the third quarter, meaning he was spared the full breadth of the beating.

Yes. It was that bad. It was as bad as bad can get.