No recorders.

No periscopes.

No submarines either, although that is a sandwich reference because there is another rule: no outside food.

The Country Club of No is not really a country club at all; it is a golf club. So, no tennis courts. No paddle ball courts. No pool. No croquet. And no infighting over the prize weekend tee times from 8 to 10 a.m. How do they avoid that?

No tee times.

The club has no membership application process; if someone asks to join, the unified retort is, No chance.

It is an invitation-only club. And that is no joke. But for those who are summoned to join the club, there is a little-known benefit: no tipping on the grounds.

Nothing is wrong with order and rules. A negative can be a positive. For example, there are no weeds at the Masters, to the naked eye, on the more than 350 acres that play host to the tournament. There is no litter because at least one maintenance employee is assigned to each quarter-acre, and should someone attempt to carelessly discard a food wrapper, an employee dashes over and snatches it before it hits the ground. It is then deposited in a garbage receptacle.

No kidding. No litter.

There is no crowding at the Masters because the club limits the number of entrance badges sold to keep the attending masses manageable. There are no cellphones, which is a great rule. At the Country Club of No, because the atmosphere is reserved and austere, no one shouts “You da man!” after a golfer’s shot, another pleasant outcome.

There is limited wildlife on the grounds. There are squirrels and birds. But a high protective fence around the entire tract keeps out larger animals, spurned as unwanted interlopers. Two years ago, when a deer ran across the eighth green, spectators gasped and pointed, and the local newspaper ran a picture of the animal. People who have been coming to the Masters since the 1950s said they had never seen a deer on the course.