You have been battered into a stupor of disaffection by a locust swarm of attack ads and unctuous doublespeak, courtesy of the most obnoxiously long campaign in history since the Crusades. Understood. But here is your reward: Beginning on October 3 and concluding two weeks before the presidential election, you will have three opportunities to watch the two leaders of the offending parties, Barack Obama and Mitt Romney, crumble to pieces before your eyes.

Oh, it can happen. All sorts of things can happen—most of them bad—when two of the world's most insulated creatures are suddenly thrust into an oppressive atmosphere consisting of a desolate stage, grim-faced inquisitors, a stone-silent live audience, and an invisible American electorate monitoring every blink and stammer. And whatever happens in these three presidential debates will, in all likelihood, determine who takes the oath of office three months later.

That's not an overstatement. "The reality of what determines a presidential campaign, among the small percentage of voters who move back and forth," says former John McCain strategist Steve Schmidt, "are the debates, where 50 million people watch what these guys have to say. In the aftermath of a presidential campaign, the importance of the debate is so understated, almost an afterthought—when in reality it is absolutely, exponentially the most important thing that happens, times 100,000."

So consider the stakes, the pressure. And then consider something that might strike you as odd, given how long Obama and Romney have dwelled on the public stage—which is that neither man is skilled at this sort of thing. "Barack Obama, I would submit, is not a very good debater," says David Birdsell, the dean of Baruch College's School of Public Affairs and a renowned debate expert. "He's very cautious, he ramps down the arch of ambition that we otherwise see in his prepared spoken material—and it's distancing. He has that vocal tic where he says, 'Look,' and then pauses. The 'Look' is a gesture of impatience—saying that at best we don't fully understand the situation, or at worst 'I'm tired of dealing with these idiotic inquiries.' It's deeply condescending. Then he chooses his words very carefully, but they don't sound like they're coming from the human heart."

Wait—could that last sentence be describing someone else? Here is Birdsell's even less charitable view of Mitt Romney as a debater: "He shows an excess of caution in declaring his interests and perspectives. And he shows a degree of deftness at avoiding commitment—and consistently a failure to provide a compelling narrative of what drives him, either personally or in the policy arena. Now, he remembers figures well, and he looks great in doing what he does. But it's possible to rattle him. Remember when Rick Perry got under his skin? He replied with, 'I'll bet you 10,000 bucks.' When rattled, he runs to his inner Eddie Haskell."

So why do we put them through it? Probably because debates force these starchy, overrehearsed, vainglorious pontificators to be human, more or less. We need to see them fidget and fume and (maybe) flash some greatness; and (maybe) we enjoy making them suffer.

But why do we put America through it? Why permit the fate of our country to hinge on three ninety-minute performances that are unlike anything the winner will be expected to do as president?

If you look at history and talk to the experts of the art and science of presidential debates, you find that, during these ninety-minute proto-reality shows, some vital information we can't seem to get anywhere else is exchanged—even if the candidates screw up or if we take the wrong message from their screwups. You'll also find, if you talk to people who have directly advised Obama and Romney, either currently or in the past, that this year's verbal cage fight is anybody's game.