It's all on you, people: You know how many papers we sort through looking for this crap? We need your help. Send your nominations here. N.B.: We've changed the address again, but as we keep telling the kid who sells us meth, this is the last time.

Okay, you know the drill: end of the week, poll later in the day, today's entry below the jump. We believe it's the first appearance of an obituary in this feature.

How does one sum up a life? Does one simply list achievements and suggest that we're the sum of what we've accomplished during our brief span on this earth? Or is there room to chronicle the passions, the driving engines that moved us through our existence. Douglas Martin, chronicling the passing of artist Jeffrey Tennyson, believes that there is. You see, Tennyson was a hamburger fan, an aficionado of ground beef patties "whose obsession with hamburgers — equal parts gastronomic, folkloric and satiric," became a dominant part of his being. Martin details the ups and downs and, then, in the final paragraph, give us this week's last nominee:

If there are indeed hamburgers in heaven, Mr. Tennyson, who could not imagine eating a burger without onions, has placed his order.

We've got a good feeling about this one.
Jeffrey Tennyson, 54, Hamburger Devotee, Is Dead

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