A hatred of Duke University and its White Blue Devils (I’m feeling nauseous already) burns deep inside of all right-thinking human beings. We are naturally repulsed by Duke to such an extent that it is now part of our natural evolutionary instincts. From the womb, we we enter this world already detesting Danny Ferry and Steve Wojochowski and (oh god, I’m going to vomit) Coach K.

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But while a low burning sensation is natural, a true Duke hater knows that he or she must refresh that hatred before each and every fresh NCAA tournament. Here’s a simple plan for how to really get yourself worked up with frothing, irrational, lovely Duke Hate:

1. Start by focusing on this year’s team.

You would think this one would be tough some seasons, but no. Literally every single season Duke fields a team full of various jagoffs, D-bags and other unlikeable goons and bozos. This year I recommend you spend a few minutes watching the thoroughly awful Plumlee Twins throw elbows and complain to the refs every time a call goes against Duke.

Good grief, extremists

2. Stare into the cold, dead, soulless eyes of Coach Mike Krzyzewski.

Do it for just a few seconds. Not too long, though, or you’ll be eternally raped by the ghost of J.J. Redick.

History's greatest monster

3. Reminisce about all the old Dukies you used to get so much pleasure from hating.

That’s the beauty of March Madness: It’s a great opportunity to fondly remember all those past seasons of hating Danny Ferry, Jay Bilas, Christian Laettner, Cherokee Parks (Oh god, I can taste the vomit trying  to come up), Bobby Hurley, Steve Wojciechowski, Jason Williams, J.J. Redick….. I could go on and on.

Sometimes around this time of year my dreams often involve a big honorary alumni game at Cameron Arena/Gymnasium Indoor Stadium that is attacked by a swarm of flying psychedelic sharks that kill everyone ever involved with the White Blue Devils. A boy can hope….

4. Read an intellectual takedown of Duke University.

This is always fun. Thanks to Duke’s irrepressible striving to be at the top of various magazine rankings and other superfluous bullshit, their overall creepiness always comes out upon close inspection. Witness Caitlin Flanagan (who is, I’ll admit, somewhat crazy herself) get worked up about the overall vibe of Duke while discussing the Karen Owens fiasco in a recent issue of The Atlantic Monthly:

In 2009, GQ magazine named Duke America’s second-douchiest college, a distinction that came with a caveat: “They’re probably number one. But we’d rather not rank Duke number one at anything.” It’s difficult to argue withGQ’s thinking on either score; something ugly is going on at the university—a mercenary intensity that has been gathering strength for the past two decades, as the institution made the calculated decision to wrench itself into elite status by dint of its fortune in tobacco money and its sheer ambition. It lured academic luminaries—many of them longer on star power than on intellectual substance—built a fearsome sports program, and turned its admissions department into the collegiate version of a head-hunting firm. (I was a college counselor at a prep school in the ’90s, and the zeal with which Duke gunned for our top students was unseemly.)

In some respects Duke has never moved on from the values of the 1980s, when droves of ambitious college students felt no moral ambivalence about preparing themselves for a life centered largely on the getting and spending of money. With a social scene dominated by fraternities and sororities (a way of life consisting of ardent partying and hooking up, offset by spurts of busywork composing angry letters to campus newspapers and taking online alcohol-education classes), with its large share of rich students displaying their money in the form of expensive cars and clothing, and with an attitude toward campus athletics that is at once deeply southern (this is a part of the world where even high-school athletes can be treated with awestruck deference by adults) and profoundly anti-intellectual, it’s a university whose thoughtful students are overshadowed by its voraciously self-centered ones.

SEE? THEY’RE A BUNCH OF RICH, DUMB, RAPEY PUNKS WHO WEAR BURBERRY AND DRIVE BMWS. NOTHING AT ALL LIKE MY SCHOOL!

5. Watch one of the many, many anti-Duke montage videos on YouTube.

The lower the production quality and more immature the jokes… the better.

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