Usually, most folks ignore phone message from politicians. They're all pretty much the same. Likewise is the reaction to callers who want you to participate in a poll, wherein the questions are a little loaded: "Candidate Smith had a glass of milk and some cherry pie last night after he and his two sons got home from Indian Guides. Candidate Jones, meanwhile, was smoking dope with hippies and setting off firecrackers at the retirement home. Do you prefer candidate Smith or candidate Jones?"

One thing about Republican Vernon Robinson, the former Winston-Salem City Council member now seeking election to Congress from the 13th District...it's hard to hang up on the pre-recorded messages his campaign leaves, wherein incumbent U.S. Rep. Brad Miller of Raleigh (a Democrat) is called everything but a hound dog. (Probably because a lot of people like hound dogs.)

The latest arrived earlier this week, I assume to most in the 13th District, which stretches from Raleigh to Greensboro.

It's set to the tune of the "Beverly Hillbillies" theme, but it's not about Jed, Granny, Elly May or Jethro. Unless, unbeknown to those of us who favored a weekly dose of their adventures, they were all illegal aliens.

OK, maybe Jethro. I'm guessing Saturn...

"Come and listen to me tell about a politician named Brad/he gave illegal aliens everything we had," is how one part of the message begins. It is backgrounded by banjo music. One other part of the musical yarn, toward the end, goes: "Now it's time to say goodbye to Brad in Washington/14 million aliens he's given so much fun."

And then, at the close, there's that little spoken part from the old show, twisted a little to say, "Hey, all you illegal aliens, put your shoes on. Don't y'all come back now, y'hear?"

Regrettably, I didn't have the previous phone message from Robinson, but I recall that it said all sorts of...well, unkind...things about Miller, a mild-mannered attorney who's served two terms in Congress after a distinguished legislative career in the General Assembly.

When he's not talking about Miller, which seems to be the main strategy of his campaign, Robinson touts himself as a graduate of the U.S. Air Force Academy and holder of a graduate degree from the University of Missouri. He served in the military and taught at Winston-Salem State University. He has run unsuccessfully for the post of state superintendent of public instruction and for Congress in another district.

Robinson's campaign is drawing interest from all over -- not necessarily because of any new ideas, but because his advertising has contained some highly personal attacks on Miller. In many cases, Miller's votes and Robinson's interpretations of them are happily removed from inconvenient context. If Miller had been seen dropping a dollar into a Salvation Army bucket at Christmas, for example, one wonders if Robinson might trumpet it thusly: "Miller gives more tax dollars away; consorts with illegal alien wearing communist-red suit."

Robinson has talked about Miller attending "socialist schools" in Europe because Miller holds a degree from the London School of Economics. And there's this partial description Robinson has used on his Web site: "Brad Miller is a childless, middle-aged, trial lawyer whose ideological worldview was formulated when he joined the ranks of the hippie peaceniks and volunteered on Eugene McCarthy's 1968 presidential campaign."

Robinson's phone messages were coming in about the same time a cable network was showing the ceremony where a portrait of former U.S. Sen. Robert Dole of Kansas was being unveiled in Washington. Do the two things have much to do with each other? Yes and no.

Dole, the former Republican nominee for president, was a World War II veteran, severely wounded, who was respected by colleagues on both sides -- though he was a tough hombre when dealing with Democrats. But it was current Democratic leader Harry Reid who talked about how Dole often said one's political opponents were not enemies. Reid cited the need for more civility in Congress. And in his own remarks, one of the colleagues Dole mentioned most prominently was the late, great liberal from Minnesota, Hubert Humphrey.

Frankly, voters might appreciate a little reasoned dialogue on pertinent issues -- health care, national security, gasoline prices -- instead of all the personal attacks, which in campaigns are called "political rhetoric" and in polite society often result in conversations that begin with "Hey, step outside..." and end with stitches.