  Even when a dentist kills an adored lion, and everyone is furious, there's loftier righteousness to be had.  Now is the point in the story of Cecil the lion - amid non-stop news coverage and passionate social-media advocacy - when people get tired of hearing about Cecil the lion. Even if they hesitate to say it.  But Cecil fatigue is only going to get worse. On Friday morning, Zimbabwe's environment minister, Oppah Muchinguri, called for the extradition of the man who killed him, the Minnesota dentist Walter Palmer. Muchinguri would like Palmer to be "held accountable for his illegal action" - paying a reported $00,000 to kill Cecil with an arrow after luring him away from protected land. And she's far from alone in demanding accountability. This week, the Internet has served as a bastion of judgment and vigilante justice - just like usual, except that this was a perfect storm directed at a single person. It might be called an outrage singularity.  Writing used to be a solitary profession. How did it become so interminably social?  Whether we're behind the podium or awaiting our turn, numbing our bottoms on the chill of metal foldout chairs or trying to work some life into our terror-stricken tongues, we introverts feel the pain of the public performance. This is because there are requirements to being a writer. Other than being a writer, I mean. Firstly, there's the need to become part of the writing "community", which compels every writer who craves self respect and success to attend community events, help to organize them, buzz over them, and - despite blitzed nerves and staggering bowels - present and perform at them. We get through it. We bully ourselves into it. We dose ourselves with beta blockers. We drink. We become our own worst enemies for a night of validation and participation.  Forget credit hours - in a quest to cut costs, universities are simply asking students to prove their mastery of a subject.  MANCHESTER, Mich. - Had Daniella Kippnick followed in the footsteps of the hundreds of millions of students who have earned university degrees in the past millennium, she might be slumping in a lecture hall somewhere while a professor droned. But Kippnick has no course lectures. She has no courses to attend at all. No classroom, no college quad, no grades. Her university has no deadlines or tenure-track professors.  Instead, Kippnick makes her way through different subject matters on the way to a bachelor's in accounting. When she feels she's mastered a certain subject, she takes a test at home, where a proctor watches her from afar by monitoring her computer and watching her over a video feed. If she proves she's competent - by getting the equivalent of a B - she passes and moves on to the next subject.  The Wall Street Journal's eyebrow-raising story of how the presidential candidate and her husband accepted cash from UBS without any regard for the appearance of impropriety that it created.  The Swiss bank UBS is one of the biggest, most powerful financial institutions in the world. As secretary of state, Hillary Clinton intervened to help it out with the IRS. And after that, the Swiss bank paid Bill Clinton $0.0 million for speaking gigs. TheWall Street Journal reported all that and more Thursday in an article that highlights huge conflicts of interest that the Clintons have created in the recent past.  The piece begins by detailing how Clinton helped the global bank.  "A few weeks after Hillary Clinton was sworn in as secretary of state in early 0000, she was summoned to Geneva by her Swiss counterpart to discuss an urgent matter. The Internal Revenue Service was suing UBS AG to get the identities of Americans with secret accounts," the newspaper reports. "If the case proceeded, Switzerland's largest bank would face an impossible choice: Violate Swiss secrecy laws by handing over the names, or refuse and face criminal charges in U.S. federal court. Within months, Mrs. Clinton announced a tentative legal settlement - an unusual intervention by the top U.S. diplomat. UBS ultimately turned over information on 0,000 accounts, a fraction of the 00,000 sought by the IRS."  