A Metamorphosis — and Your Troubles — in Ice Cream Man #27

At some point or another, we’re all forced to change with the times. You can either embrace the transformation or fight it kicking and screaming. So cozy up in your cocoon and prepare for a metamorphosis. Will what emerges be better than what entered? Were you ready to confront life’s existential burdens? Find out in Ice Cream Man #27, written by W. Maxwell Prince, drawn by Martin Morazzo, colored by Chris O’Halloran and lettered by Good Old Neon.

Ari Bard: Will, what do you think about bugs? Insects? Those creepy crawlies? Have you ever imagined what it might be like to live as such a creature? I personally have not, but stepping into the lives of Grg, Mrk and Drf sure did put things in perspective.

Will Nevin: Ari, I am not a Bug Guy; now, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to go out of my way to kill them, but I feel when they cross into my spaces, they’ve forfeited their right to … exist? “Live” seems generous when we’re talking bugs because they’re gross — take one flying cockroach to the face, and your stance is pretty much set. But Grg and the gang? They were cute as bugs go; I thought the skretchy ballad of Grg had a lot to say about accepting change and the dehumanizing stressors of work and modern society.

Ari: Change that crosses the boundaries of taxonomic rank usually surpasses the sort of life events we may be used to, but I thought a lot of Grg’s rather simplistic observations were actually quite valuable. That being said, I don’t blame you for taking drastic action when one crosses into your personal space.

Will: I respect your space; you respect mine. OK, bugs?

Look A-larvae, Change is Afoot

Ari: We’ve seen many original tactics deployed across Ice Cream Man’s run, and this time it’s a matter of perspective. To be more specific, it’s a matter of Grg’s perspective as he changes from a bug into a human. This is portrayed in part using a limited vocabulary that begins riddled with misspellings and poor grammar but slowly evolves into the modern English language. What did you think about this growth?

Will: Grg’s evolving handle on English mirrors our own, doesn’t it? As we’re just learning the language (or any other one, for that matter), our vocabulary is limited; our wrds are no gud. But we learn, we experiment, we evolve. We discover curse words like shit, ass and fuck pickle. Yet, it’s not just the words — it’s how we understand and wield them. I thought one of the most interesting moments was when Grg remarks to himself that he doesn’t understand the words that are coming from his human mouthlike orifice, and that’s an idea that really tracks. The ability to speak words — to memorize their sounds and mimic them back — means nothing without comprehension — which Grg gains as he becomes the fleshier Greg.

Ari: I hadn’t thought of it like that, and I do think that’s a valuable lesson. We look at a parrot’s ability to mimic our vocabulary, for better or worse, and realize that without meaning or understanding behind them, words are all they are and will be. It’s very strange watching Grg’s extremely dissociating experience. The new words and new body aren’t just symbols of drastic change, as he changes so much that it’s hard to tell if any original piece of him remains. I’ve had conversations lately about whether you have to lose part of yourself in order to grow, as once you learn or gain something, part of you that existed before is lost. So in that sense, can growth be strictly additive? Is any part of the original Grg still in Greg? What do we lose as we are forced to evolve?

Will: That question — whether Grg is still in Greg — seems like asking if the clipper ship Theseus is still part of the starship Theseus, and I don’t even know how to answer that. It feels like the answer is yes, but the systems are so much more complex, there are so many things laid atop the original, that it’s hard to see what once was. I mean, there was a William Calvin Nevin in 1991, and he was 6 years old. Does he still exist? Is he me? Am I him? Again, the answers are illusive. (I think I know what that means.) I thought it was poignant in a Flowers for Algernon sort of way that Greg begins to revert just before his death. But then there’s also that slight smile, as if to say, “Let’s do this,” before he becomes yet another squishy dead bug.

Metamorphosis and Metacognition

Ari: As Grg becomes Greg, a bug’s way of thinking slowly morphs into a human’s. This issue thematically presents us with the thesis: “Sometimes, wouldn’t it just be simpler to be a bug?” Ignoring some of the practicalities and the whole consideration of lifespan here, does the issue’s yearning for simplicity work for you?

Will: Did you know the average lifespan of a cockroach is a year and a half? That seems like more than enough time if you ask me (which you didn’t). The simplicity theme here is similar to what we might see in a story about somehow becoming a child again — moving back to a time when we didn’t have to pay bills, hold down a job or even keep our pants reasonably free of excrement. It’s a period in which we have a support system; we don’t have to worry about the problems that seem so overwhelming, and Greg clearly misses his backstop in Mrk and Drf after they boot him from the crumb box.

Greg, as a full-on human person, also demonstrates how dehumanizing certain social situations like the workplace can be. He has no agency, and he’s not even particularly valued for his insights or even the quality of his work. He produces, and that becomes the only thing of value. Ouch.

Ari: I did not know that, and, honestly, that is a lot longer than I expected. Too long, really. There is a lot to admire about simplicity and a lot to lament about the burdens of responsibility and knowledge. I think Ice Cream Man #27 may have missed the opportunity to teach us how to appreciate some of the joys that come with these things while still striving to keep things simple. A lot of the humans I admire are able to live in this very complicated world because they strive toward a simple set of principles and for a simple set of people.

As soon as Greg is born anew, however, he’s all alone, a stranger to even his wife and kid. Work is just as isolating, as his boss and coworkers treat him as the same sort of mindless drone he may have been as a cockroach. You’re right that it’s dehumanizing and that even though many may think of humanity as being toward the apex of existence because of evolution and sophistication, many institutions rely on regressive treatments of large groups of people. Maybe we aren’t so different after all.

Will: There’s that moment in which Greg lights on the idea, as suggested by his “box-mate,” that they’re ants. That seems comforting to Greg but distressing to Steve. Greg sees an ant colony as a positive, communal space, whereas Steve views it as a place where he’s lost his agency. I think this gets at a core Ice Cream Man theme: We as humans are sad, solitary creatures until we start working together as a society for the betterment of all.

Ari: I definitely agree with the core theme here, and I find Greg’s and Steve’s perspectives on their workplace and overall roles in society to be as simultaneously true as they are contradictory. One’s job can be where they thrive in an environment that ignites their passion and surrounds them with coworkers who hold meaning on a personal as well as professional level. This is what people dream about when striving for a job where they love what they do, but that is not all people. Others are okay with a job that is simply a means, and therefore they distance it from parts of their life that mean something to them.

Steve clearly has meaning in his life that flourishes because of the money he makes at this workplace. He doesn’t like his job, and that’s OK as long as it helps him take care of his brother. Greg is looking for a community, while Steve is looking for meaning in parts of his life where his individuality is recognized.

Will: And both are traumatized when their status changes. Whether you’re a Steve or a Grg, change is scary.

Emerge and Return to the Insects Once Again

Ari: As is fairly typical of your standard Ice Cream Man issue, Grg’s time as Greg is short-lived after he meets an unlikely demise simply by taking a shortcut and seeing something he wasn’t supposed to. What’d you think of Greg’s fate?

Will: As Thomas Hobbes wrote, life is “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short,” and that goes for bugs as well as men. A cockroach might live to the ripe old age of 2, or it might wind up a cat’s plaything or meet the business end of my slipper. You go out the front door instead of walking through the parking garage and you live another 45 years, only to die alone in a nursing home. Existence is shitty and random whether you have six legs or only two.

Ari: Brutal, but true. The randomness elements of the issue really hit hard and show that what often can make the most difference tends to be entirely outside of our control. As is standard for Ice Cream Man, so much reality.

Sticky Sweet Treats

So long, ICM #14’s Earl. We hardly knew ye, but at least you died as you lived: working on a crossword.
The art is stellar as usual — you’ll never find a prettier panel of someone getting shot in the face as muzzle flash and bits of glasses and viscera all come together in a sticky sweet symphony of gore.