Forts and clubhouses, timeless portals to the secret world of kids, stand apart from adult society and its grim concerns of property and propriety -- and this usually works out just about fine, at least until those kids get old enough to hide beer inside them.
But no age, innocent or otherwise, can save you from suburban residential zoning. Enforced by adults hidden inside their own clubhouses -- clubhouses with taxable values, you understand -- a network of vigilant eyeballs watches for . . .
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