Once upon a time, after the Big War, there was this scud running former fighter pilot caught by nightfall's rapid approach with commensurately dwindling visibility, better find a field FAST! Our intrepid aviator at the last minute gets a glimpse of a field of new mown hay through a hole in the clouds.
Relieved at his good fortune, he lands and taxis up to the nearby farmhouse. The farmer comes out onto the front porch and says, "You can spend the night in the barn, but stay away from my daughter." As he lay down, starting to doze off, said daughter brought him a plate of supper. The conversation led to romance and the farmer's number one rule was broken.
As dawn broke our hero got long gone. Some seven years later, the pilot passed over the farm and decided to land and pay a visit. However, as he approached the house he saw a six-year-old boy standing in the front yard with the object of his former passion. The daughter, sensing his question said, "Yes, this is your son."
"Why didn't you let me know, I would've done the right thing," he said.
The daughter then replied, "We discussed it, even prayed about it, but in the end we thought it was better to have a bastard in the family than a fighter pilot.”
Having known a number of NASAL RADIATORS, I can feel some empathy with this sentiment.