The Dismal Science in iCarly Dispatch

"Oh, Gibby, there's so much not right about you."

If this dispatch was a play produced/written/directed by Sam Puckett, it would open with the direction "Baking high beam spotlight on the shirtless potato."  But before Gibby speaks the first lines, please allow a moment for a word in his behalf.

At the beginning of iCarly, Gibby was a minor character, their wacky little friend.  More recent episodes put Gibby in the opening credit sequence.  An astonishing emergence into prominence, inspiring in its way, like the little engine that could.  Despite all the Texas wedgies and the girl number two, the Gibster has prospered.

Now, please, this dispatch.  In the episode where Carly's room must be remade due to a fire, the moment of triumph is dampened a bit when Gibby notes the inevitable absence of "your old photos and other personal items which can never be replaced".  Sam, Freducation and Spencer scream "Gibby!!"  Moments later, when the results with the day-long effort are once again keenly felt, these words escape Gibby's lips: "Is there anything money can't do?'

The episode with the most economic significance is the one where Sam, Freddifer and Carly go into business.  Sam intuits that a market exists for the t-shirts they wear.  Information gleaned from efforts on behalf of the Sam Puckett Legal Defense Fund suggest she might be right.  Supply becomes the issue, and Carly and Fredition embrace the task - they're all fired up.  Sam's lack of participation is noted.  And then she shows up with a hand truck and triple their output.

Eventually, how such heroism is possible becomes the paramount question.  Sam lures them to the basement of Carly's apartment building, and shows them something Carly describes as "worse than Chinese fireworks."  Sam has set up a factory, where kids from St. Mary's are seated elbow-to-elbow at machines placed on long tables.  Health care is duct tape.  The kids' pleading for lunch can only gain a reluctant assent form Sam.  One kids' sandwich has a toothbrush stuck inside, and the "prissy brunette" (Carly, this time) determines that lunch has been retrieved from a dumpster.

A division of labor agreement is reached - half the kids will go with Carly and Fredition and be treated with respect, half will stay with Sam.  Sam employs the famously non-mathematical alphabetical method - "All kids with last names starting with A-M go with them, N-Z kids stay with me."  Upon seeing the ensuing celebration, she reverses herself - "All kids A-M stay with me!"  Now, cheers mix with groans.

Even the slightest taste of freedom can be destabilizing, as events in Sam's factory prove.  Another day brings another lunch - canned Chunk Meat.  "Strengthens hooves," it says on the label.  This is the straw that breaks the camel's back for the kids.  To their demands, Sam responds with derision - "Life's a big boo-hoo," she says, giving the inoculation with disillusion a shot.  The kids file out and Sam's cruel parting remark is not her last such.  The scene ends with her alone, about to tuck into the hoof-aid.

Discipline doesn't last long upstairs in the iCarly studio, where the kids can't handle the relaxed attitude.  Being paid for a month in advance doesn't help - at twice Sam's rate of $5 per diem, that's pretty sweet - Carly: "It seemed like a good idea at the time."  Here the revolt is so quiet, one of the kids sleeps through it.

Detente is the aim of a meeting at the Groovy Smoothie, the neighborhood gathering spot for kids.  But reluctant apologies and promises of respect don't interest the kids - they've decided to enter the penny-t business on their own, comical chest words and all.  Labor wins!  The kids win!  (Sam calls them "punks" - so yes, the punks win!)

Sam, Carly and Fredco leave defeated.  And here, at the exeunt, enters a new character who could be described as a young black man of no small responsibility at the Groovy Smoothie - most often he is seen purveying fine foods such as turkey breast on a stick.   His name, to the casual listener, sounds like "T-Bo" - a mash-up of T-Bone and TiVo?  At the door, he offers that day's specialty: "Chicken pot pie on a stick?"  Carly and Freducation mumble refusals.

Sam says "Shut up, T-Bo."

Could there be anything more right about Sam?  Right, as in right wing.  Many of her lines sound like boilerplate conservatism:  "Help!   I'm being attacked by a teacher!"  "No!"  "I got this."  Tough nubs!"  "I ain't goin nowhere."  To be fair, some of what she says tends leftward:  "I need money from other people."  "And scream at the sky."  "Courage."  "I ain't goin' nowhere."

Is there a moral to our story/tale?  That labor can galvanize an organic reform movement (and shed some light on an invisible republic) is well known, indeed, examples abound - there's Spartacus, The Pullman Porters, Solidarity, and the recent unrest throughout the Arab world.

Sam does a lot of silly kid show stuff, but no defense need be mounted for Jennette McCurdy's work in the episode just described.  Sam herself might agree - with a dollop of reluctance - to this observation: Sam will be a lot more effective when she realizes that good intuition doesn't license cruelty.

Editors' note: One of the things that makes Sam's character so compelling in iCarly is the depth of her characterization by actress Jennette McCurdy. On June 11, we were given some insight into the source of that depth in a piece in the Wall Street Journal McCurdy wrote about her mother's struggle with breast cancer. It is thoughtful, compelling, well-written and far removed from the standard-issue narcissicsm emanating from most celebrities.

Pictures: Sam Pucket demand(ing) curve, Gibby halfway in flagrante