Yeah I'll wear the blame.

As the great man dobartim would say in his fucking ass-hat poetry...

Blame is like a salt of grain in love of tree golf on the dusty plain of the desert of watery expansiveness of the rain falling upwards in the desert of dryness or the wet areas of the dry.

You'll have to work out what the hell that means...Just the like the rest of his poetry that no sane person could decipher.