It is with very heavy hearts that we report the passing of our friend and colleague, Scianta Chief Scientist Earl Cox. Earl passed away of a heart attack on Thursday, March 29th. His was a unique and passionate intellect with incredible expertise in everything from Homeric Greek to fossils, from photography to rare books, from fuzzy logic to dinosaurs. He was a collector of the rare and compelling: old coins, fossils, rare microscopes, first edition books, medieval manuscripts and carnivorous plants. He was a writer, a linguist, an artist, a photographer, a humorist, a scientist and a deep thinker. He was deeply passionate about, and excelled in, everything he did. He was the smartest man we ever knew. He was, above, all, our friend.
Earl leaves behind a lifelong legacy of work in fuzzy logic, cognitive computing, machine intelligence and data science, along with a large group of friends who loved him. The Scianta Analytics team is proud to be a part of his legacy.
Rest in peace, old friend. Our hearts have a Compatibility Index of 1 with the concept of extremely sad.
“I question the atomic theory of matter. I suspect the second law of thermodynamics. I deny the physics of lift and the ability of grasshoppers to fly. I reject the fundamental concepts of Euclidean space. I believe Archimedes was a dope. I have ignored the barking of dogs, the metamorphosis of butterflies, the bite of mosquitoes, the roar of freight trains, and the separation of cream from milk. I spoke volumes to avian dinosaurs. I wrote threatening letters to the dead. I once, in a dream of uncertain meaning, ran naked through the streets of Pompeii. I am a ditherer. I am a farsighted philosopher blinded by love. I am a captive. I am a free man on the seventh day of the Month of Tulon when my number is called. I am a collector of prize winning snowflakes. I am gifted with a balance of power, with a sense of the approximate, and the intuitive knowledge of how water flows downhill. I am able to unlock the secrets of quadratic equations, the meaning of storm clouds, the hidden patterns of sea gulls but, alas, not the secret language of women.” Earl Cox, on Earl Cox