So I've been invited to Hugh Hefner's Super Bowl party on Saturday night in San Diego.

Normally, I wouldn't think twice about attending such a drab event the night before the big game. As a serious football journalist, the 24 hours before kickoff are best spent locked in a sportswriting war room with Len Pasquarelli, John Clayton, Peter King, Adam Schefter, Thomas George and Clarence Hill, going over potential blocking schemes to combat Tampa Bay's zone blitz.

	Was Britney selling a soft drink last year ... or sex? The NFL should distance itself from such exploitation.

Plus, I have some strong reservations about the NFL associating itself with Hef's Playboy magazine, a wonderfully written rag that promotes itself by objectifying young, curvaceous women as nothing more than sexual playthings for men.

Seriously, when is the NFL going to draw a line in the dirt, do the right thing and distance itself from advertisers and companies that profit from promoting sex? The beer commercials that are played between breaks in the game have gotten completely out of hand. While I don't particularly understand what all the fuss is about the Miller Lite commercial that shows two athletic women settling a great-taste-less-filling debate by shredding each others' clothes and wrestling in the mud, I am absolutely mortified and repulsed by the latest Budweiser ad.

You've seen the ad? A couple is sitting on a couch watching a sporting event and the woman keeps making thinly veiled references to the size of the guy's manhood. "You have such cute little hands," she coos at the end of the commercial.

This is just the kind of trash TV that is ruining our youth and sends a terrible, self-confidence-destroying message to young men. And just think about the negative, totally inaccurate stereotypes that are subtly being forced on the minds of impressionable young women. I mean, we're in the 21st century, we're allegedly a sophisticated society. Size is completely irrevelant, right?

I'm not afraid to admit it. I have cute little hands. A firm, warm handshake is oftentimes the first impression a man makes on a woman. Now, because of this sexist, dehumanizing, filthy beer ad, I'll never comfortably shake hands with another woman. Now, when meeting a woman for the first time, I'll be reduced to making some gesture or motion that draws attention to my size 13 shoes.

	We're counting on Jason to investigate the truth of what goes on at the Playboy party.

At some point, if Tagliabue and the league want to be taken seriously, they need to publicly stand against the forces that profit from the exploitation and ridicule of men with cute little hands. As Johnnie Cochran so eloquently put it: "If the motion in the ocean is right, the glove that protects the love doesn't have to fit tight."

So for all of these reasons, I considered boycotting Hef's Super Bowl party. But then I thought about it. I'm a journalist. I'm against war, but that wouldn't stop me from going to Iraq to report on a war. On the contrary, as a journalist, the No. 1 story I want to cover is a war.

So it only makes sense that a man committed to ending pornography would have a natural lust to party with Hef and his bunnies Super Bowl week.

I need to fully understand this issue. The most effective and efficient way to bring about change is to work from within the system. I need to attend this party for you, readers of this column. It's important that I go to the front lines of the sexual-exploitation industry so that you don't ever have to go there yourself. I'll make the sacrifice and report back to you what I see, what I feel, what I smell, what I hear. I'll land as many one-on-one, in-depth interviews and photos with scantily clad Playmates as I possibly can.

But I need your help. Having never attended one of these decadent events, I need some recommendations on what I should wear, whether I should take a date and how I should interact with the Playmates.

Should I dress like Hef and wear a smoking jacket and pajama pants? Or should I put on my best Troy McSwain-tailored suit? Should I lie and tell the Playmates that I'm Nate Newton visiting the Super Bowl on a weekend furlough and that I have a bag of the sticky-ickee-ickee back in my hotel room? Given Hef's penchant for dating multiple women at the same time, should I attend the party stag or bring a potential, undiscovered Miss April?

If you have any suggestions, drop me an e-mail at Ballstate0@aol.com. I'll try to respond before Saturday night.

Jason Whitlock is a regular columnist for the Kansas City Star (kcstar.com), the host of a morning-drive talk show, "Jason Whitlock's Neighborhood" on Sports Radio 810 WHB (810whb.com) and a regular contributor on ESPN The Magazine's Sunday morning edition of The Sports Reporters.