ClydeSight2.0!

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Time Travel Clyde

You Have Followed Clyde into History!

Good Idea.

You have landed in 16th Century England and this is the story of:

Elizabeth R and the
Spanish Armadillo

enhanced with MIDI Clyde Tunes™

Queen Elizabeth I, the great monarch, had been busy drinking wine and playing a game of "drafts" with her current favorite lord, Sir Walter Raleigh, after trying out some of that new "wonder substance" he brought back from the New World, "tobacco". (yeah, sure)

Now, in Renaissance England, "drafts" was not the game we know it to be today. Instead of playing it with cards, the participants ran all around the castle opening doors and windows in an effort to blow out candles. This is why it was called, Drafts.

In this round, the royal Queen won the game, and all but one candle (Sir Walter's) had been blown out. Victorious, Queen Bess stood regally in her pristine white dress, a bit woozy, when there was a sudden flash of brilliant light, and Clyde appeared at her royal feet.

Elizabeth and Clyde - The famous portrait

Queen Elizabeth image courtesy of Zane Publishing, Inc.:
http://www.realtime.net/~acs/powercd.htm

Looking down in the dim light, Bessy squinted and then decreed:

"I pray thee tell me, sir. Be this a cat, or an arma.. armada.. armadadillo?" and then she giggled. She actually had no idea what an armadadillo was, having never seen one, even in the royal zoo.

<--This is an armadillo. This is Clyde-->
They look strikingly similar, don't they?

Armadillo image courtesy of:
http://magenta.com/~hannah/armadillo.html

Unbeknownst to her royal majesty or Sir Walter (who was lighting up for another round), Count Geraldo des Zapatos Grandes (which means: "Jerry of the Big Shoes" -- if Clyde Big Paws had shoes, they would have been called "Gatos Zapatos Grandes" in Spanish-- but he was in England at the time and cats don't wear shoes anyway, so the whole idea is pointless), the infamous Spanish Ambassador, was hiding in the royal attic listening through a 16th century ventilation duct to the conversation. (This later became known as "eavesdropping".)

When the ambassador (who was nicknamed "Bigfoot") heard the question, he realized that he must rush home to Spain at once and inform his master, King Phillip de Espana.

Phillip had been planning to invade England with a fleet of giant warships. He had called this his "Great Armada." But, because of the residual effects of Sir Walter Raleigh's discovery ("tobacco"), and the dust coming from the 16th century ventilation ductwork in the royal attic, the ambassador was confused and thought that Phillip was planning a "Great Armadadillo", and now, there was no hope of throwing Elizabeth that little surprise invasion-party as was planned.

When Geraldo finally arrived in Madrid, Phillip was at the royal theatre attending a famous play about wine vinting in Valencia, called "Amontillado". It was time for the curtain call, and he was applauding the Cast of Amontillado, which made a smashing great title for a short story by Edgar Allen Poe centuries later.

Anyway, this was an "audience participation" play, and by the time it was over, Phillip was pretty drunk. So, when Geraldo warned him of the surprise invasion being no surprise to Elizabeth because she already had an armadadillo (which quite possibly could beat theirs in a battle), the king smartly slapped the ambassador with his glove and said "That's Armada, you twit!" and marched off. Phillip was not a gracious drunk.

The Spanish Armada (Impressive.)

Spanish Armada image courtesy of Zane Publishing, Inc.:
http://www.realtime.net/~acs/powercd.htm

But that night, in his inebriated sleep, Phillip had a vision in which he was warned that the "...Armada trick isn't going to work. Try something else, and you should be nicer to your sneaky ambassador." (Actually, Sir Walter Raleigh was practicing his "enhanced" psychic telepathic powers, but Phillip didn't know that at the time.) When Phillip awoke, thinking he had received a miraculous message, promptly sent for the ambassador, apologized for his abusive behavior, and asked for his suggestions.

"Well," mused Geraldo, while tying one of his enormous shoes, "perhaps this can work to our advantage. Perhaps we should build a "Great Armadillo" anyway . We could sack the fleet, which is too expensive, and stuff the sailors into a giant iron Armadillo, you know, sort of repeat that Greek Trojan Horse thing. The English aren't very bright. I don't think they would catch on until it was too late."

"Who was the ruler when the Greeks pulled this stunt?" Asked Phillip.

"A beautiful woman named Helena." Geraldo replied, while trying to get his finger out of his left shoe.

"Helena?" asked Phillip, more confused than ever.

"Yeah, you know, Helena Troy."

"Oh."

The ambassador's suggestion made so little sense that Phillip decided it was a great idea. He immediately ordered his workers into action, and eyeing the giant shoelaces asked: "So how much do you spend for those things anyway?"

The Spanish design for the "Great Armadillo"

The armadillo appears courtesy of:
http://magenta.com/~hannah/armadillo.html

For months the noble, but hapless Spaniards labored on the project, recycling the wooden timbers of the Armada into stunning classic Spanish furniture (which you can still buy today because there was so much of it). They melted and recast the cannons and ammunition into the effigy of a giant Armadillo over 20 feet high. It was quite the sight to see, and people came from miles around just to view the project. So did the English ambassador, who wrote home to the Queen, "... I don't think we have anything to worry about here, these people haven't got a clue."

Finally, to the great amusement of the crowd, it came time to launch the "Great Armadillo." Unfortunately, because it was made of iron and had no real hull, it instantly sank in Madrid harbor with all on board. However, no one drowned because, you see, Madrid is land locked, it has no harbor, only a rather deep puddle from the latest rainstorm (one of many flaws in this scheme).

In the meantime, Queen Elizabeth ran out of the "wonder substance" Sir Walter Raleigh had brought her, and sent him off in a ship to fetch "...a pack of smokes."

Sir Walter Raleigh, enjoying a smoke.

Sir Raleigh appears courtesy of:
http://www.alchemyweb.com/~alchemy/englit/renlit/ralegh.htm

While he was away (where he accidentally discovered North Carolina and lost a Colony which no one has ever found since -- careless of him), she pretty much sobered up and checked by her skirts to realize that Clyde was not an armadillo at all, but merely a cute, albeit adorable, little cat.

Clyde, an adorable little cat.

Clyde appears courtesy of:
Clyde

Attracted to his sublime beauty, she bent down to stoke him when the English ambassador to England (why they had one of these, no one knows) rushed in and told her the exciting news of the Spanish defeat at Madrid by the Spanish themselves. It was the greatest English victory in history to date.

The Queen instantly realized that Clyde, through the power of confusion (she didn't take into account the effect of Sir Walter Raleigh's "wonder substance"), had saved England from the dreaded invasion, and more importantly, spared the royal treasury the expense of financing the English fleet. Queen Elizabeth was known for being tight with a shilling.

However, at the same time, her council was urging her to marry (which they had been doing, to her great annoyance, for years), and she saw a solution. She declared Clyde a noble subject and married him -- something that really annoyed the Council, the other nobles who had been wooing her unsuccessfully, and the newly formed Church of England, because they didn't have any rules against such a silly thing yet.

But it worked out really well for Elizabeth because, although she'd never share her throne with an actual person who might try to act like a King, she could easily do it with Clyde who simply purred himself into a stupor most of the time. Besides, he was so cute, no one would ever argue with her again in his presence. This greatly simplified life at court.

She immediately ordered a parade, called a "Progress", so she could go throughout the countryside displaying Clyde, the hero of the day. And, she ordered special music, called Clyde March, or "The Cat's Progress", to be composed for the occasion, with fanfare, pipes and drums and all sort of interesting sounds!

The parade started in London and progressed spasmodically northwards -- because the lead horse was drunk on fermented apples. The people all cheered, possibly because the courtiers were throwing money at them (a custom which is sorely lacking in modern parades where the most you can hope for is some confetti and maybe an errant balloon or two).

And of course, they instantly fell in love with Clyde, who was, after all, so completely adorable, if indifferent to the entire proceeding. The result of all this is the famous nursery rhyme, which goes in part:

"Ride a crocked-horse to Cranberry Cross, there to see the Queen.
She shall have rings on her fingers and bells on her collar,
and all the people will stand up and holler
Hooray for Clyde the King!"

It is time to save reality
as we'd like to know it.

Here is the all-important historical question you must answer correctly to put time a-right and return history to normal:

There was no such thing as progress
in Elizabethan England.

<-- ?-->
True   <-- ? -->   False

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