Newsweek does a kind of interesting profile of Preznit Drunken DEKE at the G8 Summit. While it does have some of the slavish Finemanian/Woodwardian praiseprose:

Onboard, Bush is demanding constant updates from his national-security adviser Steve Hadley, who is holed up in a staff cabin, speed-dialing officials around the world to get a better read on the situation. "Let's find out more of what's going on about the Israeli plan," Bush tells Hadley. The president reminds his staff that this time last year, when he was in Scotland for another G8 summit of world leaders, suicide bombers struck the London subway. It becomes a grim joke: another G8, another crisis. Bush's day has barely begun and the region he has tried so hard to reshape and rebuild is on the verge of all-out war.

"Sometimes, in order to get others to act with us," he says, "there has to be conditions on the ground that make the case better than I can make it." It hasn't always turned out that way: in Iraq, conditions on the ground have long conspired against Bush and driven allies away.

Bush has a full day ahead with Putin, but first his aides have a long list of subjects to cover with him. In a prebriefing session they try to cram him with talking points on a vast array of issues. Bush, who hates to get bogged down in the weeds, has heard enough. "How long do you want this list to be?" he snaps. At least he doesn't need to make small talk; last night's dinner has dispensed with that. "It makes it easier to sit down and get right to the subject," Bush says. "You don't have to break ice and establish rapport."

Bush doesn't know that Putin has been readying a joke of his own. When asked a predictable question about the state of Russia's democracy, Putin pounces: "We certainly would not want to have the same kind of democracy as they have in Iraq, I will tell you quite honestly." There are guffaws from the Russian media and gasps from American reporters. Struggling to hear the translation, Bush joins in the laughter before catching himself. "Just wait," he snaps back, and his smile fades.

Now, as he prepares for yet another press session, this time with Blair, his aides remind him of the complete wording. Bush is annoyed by his errors and frustrated that he must repeat the whole thing: the entire explanation runs to 190 words. "It was a reminder to him that you have to make a full case," says Bush's counselor Dan Bartlett. "You can't just give one assessment. You have to touch all the bases."

If the press questions are painful, Bush finds the lengthy summit sessions almost unbearable. The negotiations were concluded long ago, and all that's left is a procession of windy statements—which some of the other leaders endure better than Bush. After one working lunch that runs late, the president returns to his cottage and staggers through the door as if he's exhausted. It's only halfway through the first full day of the summit. For someone who usually spends no more than one night in a foreign country, the four-day trip to Russia seems like an eternity.

That afternoon the leaders are promised they will see the final text of their statement on the Middle East, which calls on Hizbullah to end its rocket attacks and then urges Israel to end its military strikes. But the document fails to arrive at the promised hour of 4, and it's still not there at 5 o'clock. Bush has had it. "I'm going home," he says to the room full of presidents and prime ministers. "I'm going to get a shower. I'm just about meeting'd out." Some of the leaders suggest they should all work out their differences together. But Bush can no longer keep up appearances. "I thought that was a lousy idea and so did others," Bush says later. "It would lose focus and everybody would then have an opinion."