That is all.
jots a note
Why, you sly ol’ Sporkmeister, you! I hereby dub thee “Lord of Sporks”!
We bought some friends titanium sporks as part of a wedding gift. I hope they have used them as well.
It’s about friggin’ time, already.
How about ‘Sporkulus, The God of Sporks!’? 
**Mr. Spork ** what do you make of that utensil. Is it a Fork or a Spoon?
Fascinating Captain, I believe it is either the Rare Denebian Foon or perhaps a Titanium Spork.
I believe it is indeed a Titanium Spork and quite useable as either a Fork or a Spoon.
Aye Captain, a fine thing tis not a Denebian Foon, nasty little buggers those are.
Jim {Dammit Jim, I am a Programmer not a Doctor}
May I masturbate in your shadow?
Sporkulus I can go with. But I won’t let you play God! 
I’ll alert the media.
[Paris Hilton]
That’s hot
[/Paris Hilton]
JLA fulfilled
His exotic tool at last
Has proven handy
What did you use it for?
That’s what* I* want to know!
Personally, I’d use it as a Weapon of Ultimate Doom, but I hear you can also eat a salad with it…
A tin of rather mediocre chili.
I’ve done dishes, so I now have clean flatware to use. Who knows when next the spork shall arise from its utensily grave?
Is this the spork you started a thread about when you bought it, like 2 years ago?
Too bad Halloween’s over, you could have gone as Count Sporkula.
It would have been sporktacular!
Now that you mention it, I guess it is!
As long as it was used for good and not evil, I don’t see that we need pry any further.
Unless it was the really cool kind of evil, with henchmen and a secret hideout in a dormant volcano and extortion on a continental scale and the shout "Look out, Lance! He’s got a titanium spork! That would be okay, as long as somebody filmed it and I got a copy.
But that kind of thing is more a job for a beryllium grapefruit spoon, or maybe a pair of platinum ice-tongs. It’s hard these days to get even Interpol’s attention with anything less than a set of molybdenum shrimp forks (I think Gorham still makes them in its Fiendish Plot pattern).
But, to me, the interesting aspects of Johnny L.A.'s message are a) its terseness and b) his use of the word “finally.” Taken together, they speak to a certain urgency, even desperation, on his part, as if the utilization of the utensil in question was accomplished in extremis, almost against his will. “I tried to refrain,” the OP seems to say, “I tried to be good, but see what I’ve at last been forced to do, titanium spork-wise.” Taken this way, the OP is a combination self-exculpation/accusation of others and a cry for help.
The titanium spork, is of course, classically symbolic of the disjointed personality: neither one thing or the other, it tries to get by on sheer strength and functionality. This cannot compensate, however, for the negative reinforcement that comes from never being asked to join a place setting, from being wanted only in the absence of more elegant, specialized instruments, from the knowledge that one will never be laid gently on a monogrammed, double-hemstiched linen napkin, from the sure expectation that the caviar and creme brulee will always belong to others, that one’s own fate is sealed like the off-brand can of beans of which it largely consists. The powerful impetus toward asocial behavior, nay, atavism, is readily obvious even to those observers who aren’t sure where the salad fork goes. By the time a subject gets to the point indicated by the OP, reversal of the process is unlikely, I’m afraid. Essentially, from this inarticulate howl of pain and rage, we can glean the following:
"I’ve tried for years to come to terms with my lack of social skills and friends, my laughably poor fashion sense, unmanageable hair and tragic unhipness. In the SDMB, I thought I’d found a community that would support me, if only because it couldn’t see or hear me. But my trust has been betrayed again.
"The titanium spork, snug in its wall-mounted glass case, beckons me. I know it is wrong, but to me everything now seems wrong, and to continue to resist takes so much strength, and I am so tired. I guess I shouldn’t have put it in its own glass case and hung it on the wall: it would be easier if I’d just chucked it in the silverware drawer. If I take this spork, I will have done with humanity as it long ago abandoned me. I do not want to, but if someone does not stand with me against the lure of the unholy utensil, I fear that I must.
“…a sporking we will go, a sporking we will go – ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha – heigh, ho, the derry-o, a sporking we will go …”
Horrific tragedies like the one undoubtedly just perpetrated by our poor friend Johnny L.A. can be prevented. It must start with a thorough cleansing of the nation’s place-settings. Social status is not a factor: titanium spork violence is known even to those born with a silver spoon in his/her mouth. Act today, ruthlessly, to eliminate the menace. Thank you.
This message has been authorized by the National Chopsticks Council.
King of Soup: marry me and run away with me to the Casbah, sir!