The game shows we call debates

LA Times columnist Doyle McManus is not impressed with the slate of GOP presidential candidates. After watching last week's debate, he thought the candidates left us with more questions than answers on the big issues. "And don't get me started on foreign policy," he wrote. I could hear his heavy sigh from here. More interesting was his observation about the debate itself. "Of course, a debate can't be expected to cover every subject, even when it lasts two hours. And the television networks that run the events naturally try to focus the candidates on issues that might spark telegenic exchanges, such as the clash between Perry and others over immunization against the human papillomavirus," McManus opined. Note McManus' tone. There isn't even a pretense anymore about the alleged seriousness of modern debates. What we watch today is more akin to the "Wheel of Fortune." The trend allowing audience participation (which has cheered executions and booed a gay soldier) only adds to the game show feel. And in the last debate, is it mere coincidence that one of the moderators (Fox News' Megyn Kelly) bears an uncanny resemblance to Vanna White? What's next ― a laugh-track? Sure, I pine for the days of Lincoln-Douglas. But would it kill us to return to some updated form of that effective format ― you know, for the sake of the country? It's awful hard to hide ignorance, incompetence or unpreparedness when dueling mano a mano in a quiet studio sans audience. Besides letting us quickly separate the wheat from the chaff, viewers might even learn something from the discussion. Imagine that. Even a debate involving three persons in this setting, though not ideal, would be better than the carnival shows the networks stage today. Not that I'm holding my breath, mind you. Rating-friendly debates modeled on "The Price Is Right" is the price we pay for our political apathy. Until that changes, get used to increasing shouts of: "Come on down!"