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I had one of those farcical bar mitzvahs where they spell out the words phonetically on index cards, and you don't even know what you're saying.

I marketed pens - on the phone. But the beauty of the gig was that you had to call these strangers and say, 'Hi, how ya doing?' You made up a name, like, 'Hey, it's Edward Quartermaine from California. You're eligible to receive this grandfather clock or a trip to Tahiti.' You promise them all these things if they buy a gross of pens.

I'm interested in humor, and greeting cards just happen to be a perfect medium for my message. They're accessible to everyone, and thanks to all the advances that have been made by environmentally conscientious printers, I can get my message across while keeping my carbon footprint relatively small.

Each year, in my quaint efforts to send out paper holiday cards with personal messages, I probably discard one for every three I actually manage to put in the mail. The reason is that my handwriting is now less legible than it was when I was in the second grade.

Don't send funny greeting cards on birthdays or at Christmas. Save them for funerals, when their cheery effect is needed.

I'm not a boy now. I'm a man, I hope. I hope I've had my artistic bar mitzvah somewhere.

I love that works of art are printed so that anyone can buy them. The variety of what they put on little postcards astounds me.

I envision a day when a businesswoman will be having lunch, and then her phone will ring. When she opens it up, she will see an image of the latest Marc Jacobs coat that just arrived in stock. With a click of a button, she can purchase it and then find it waiting for her when she gets back to her office.