OMG. So much to do, so little time...
Ocelot: you can't fly. Ocelots cannot fly. They are cats. Cats do not fly, they just think they do. They jump through the air, landing on helpless, hapless, hopeless victims, claws outstretched in landing position...but they do not FLY, properly speaking. Birds fly. Cats leap, pounce, jump...you get the picture. Known.
Everyone: you've all fallen for the cigar fanboyz. All of you. You have let yourself get so confused and distracted that they have definitively invaded what is left of your carbon-monoxide-soaked grey/gray cells. Don't complicate your existences. Don't fall for false patrioto-economic arguments. When you get a cigar-urge, it's only your consumptive ego. Lose it.
B&H are fine. Simple hunting-and-gathering, then sensitive recycling of pre-smoked tobacco is fine. Even begging the occasional cig from some unsuspecting little old lady on the street is fine. Just forget the cigar trap. They'll ruin you. You'll end up in the poor house for the rest of your benighted days. Be warned.
'Nuff said.