Little is known about the Almanack's first editor aside from the rumor he had fled Philadelphia after being fired by Benjamin Franklin for displaying "...neither interest in nor aptitude for health, wealth or wisdom".

Plague-of-Locusts burned to the ground while occupied by Hessian mercenaries during the American Revolution. Scholars still debate whether this was a deliberate act of brutality or a tragic miscalculation about how long it takes to cook sauerbraten. Either way, the fire destroyed the Almanack's offices, printing press and charred the "k" at the end of its name beyond repair.

Publication resumed — now as a daily tabloid — in New York in 1801. Contemporary accounts report that, as he lay mortally wounded after his duel with Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton was read to aloud from that day's Ant Farmer's Almanac until he begged for death.

After decades as a political tract agitating first for, and later against, the takeover of the U.S. Patent Office by Freemasons, the Ant Farmer's Almanac was sold to the Pullman Car Company, where it became the on-board magazine for First Class railroad-passengers. In this era it published comic light verse, flattering profiles of Robber Barons and advice on beating servants.

It was also during this Gilded Age that, when asked his opinion of the Ant Farmer's Almanac, Horace Greeley, mishearing the question and thinking it was "How do I get to Carnegie Hall," uttered his famous phrase, "Go West, young man!" Greeley later recanted, insisting that he'd meant to say "Practice."

The Almanac languished from the late 1880s until, oh, let's say, 1913. That year, enterprising Swedish immigrant Sven "Golly" Börk, bought the name for a song (Wait 'till the Sun Shines, Nellie), published it quarterly and sold copies from a pushcart on the Lower East Side. Despite marketing a Swedish language humor magazine in a neighborhood full of recently arrived Italian immigrants, Börk's hard work paid off when, less than a decade later, he earned a fortune making bathtub gin.

Revived briefly in 1969, the Ant Farmer's Almanac became an "underground comix" weekly, printed on Zig-Zag rolling papers pasted together and run through a mimeograph machine. Its erratic publishing schedule, haphazard editing ("Anarchy by committee," said one critic), and the widespread sentiment among the staff, that it was "Like, a complete waste of perfectly good rolling papers, man" doomed the enterprise pretty much from the start.

By the 1980s, a series of mergers and acquisitions had reduced the Ant Farmer's Almanac to a tax write-off shell company of its former selves. The stock market crash of 1987 hit its corporate owners particularly hard because they were standing nearby at the time.

The Almanac became a free agent in 1991, and, although several teams initially expressed interest, it was never signed and receded into obscurity.

In 2003, the domain name antfarmersalmanac.com was bought by writer and dotcom millionaire-manqué L.K. Peterson (not pictured). In 2006 he enlisted Martin Kozlowski to redesign version .2 of the site, despite the fact that we are not entirely convinced he actually exists.

The rest, as they say, is history (see above).