Hey Frank, when did "Pedro Picasso" become "El Stupido Supremo"?

Remember, I'm no primitive (nor are you, sir, of course not).
Which means ideas, perceptions, are not engraved in stone in this mind and imagination.
My image of a particular primitive is always in evolution, as the primitive reveals, wittingly or unwittingly, more about himself.
I disremember the comment by El Stupido Supremo, and it was some days ago, but while reading it, El Stupido Supremo quickly changed, in my imagination, from the spoiled-rotten surly snarly "artist" to a South American general strutting around with a chestful of toy medals.
The only aspect I had trouble "fitting" was that South American generals strutting around with a chestful of toy medals tend to be brown-haired or black-haired, and El Stupido Supremo is blond, even though perilously close to the sixth decade of his life (when one assumes it would be thinning or greying or not there at all).
I solved that dilemma by quickly putting a hat on his head, to cover up the color of the hair.
However, I'm still trying to deal with the black mustache in the "image" of El Stupido Supremo.
Among other things, I always "see" (envision, imagine) El Stupido Supremo as standing behind a table, visible only from the waist up.
For reasons of modesty.
You see, the very first--and only--time I imaged El Stupido Supremo as a pompous South American general, I noticed he was minus his pants, including the underwear, and standing at a balcony in front of a roaring crowd.
Oh my.
And to make it even more ludicrous, El Stupido Supremo was standing there thinking the crowd was cheering him, when in fact they were jeering him.
Words paint pictures, and that's what I'm seeing.