I'm a Production Assistant for a small independent film company ... which means I'm a gofer. One of my jobs includes driving the producer's utterly angelic 10-year-old daughter home from her exclusive private school each afternoon.

So, about three weeks ago, I have Pantera's "Cowboys from Hell" in my car CD player when little Samantha hops into the car. She starts chattering about her day, and then suddenly turns and gasps, "What *IS* this music?"

She flops back in the seat, eyes wide, and starts smacking her hand on her thigh, in pretty good imitation of the rhythm. A minute later, she says, "Who is this? I really *like* this!! I've never heard music like this before."

So for the past three weeks, she won't let us listen to anything but "Cowboys From Hell" during our ride home. She takes the lyric sheet out of the CD wallet and sings along. She wants me to buy her or burn her a copy. I keep telling her she'll like "Vulgar Display" a lot, too, but right now, the obsession is centered on "Cowboys from Hell". She's read the liner notes. She now knows the name of everyone in the band (although I didn't have the heart to tell her that "Diamond Darrell" is really "Dimebag Darrell".) She's looking forward to her 12th birthday when her Mom will give her Internet access and she can go looking for more information on Pantera.

I also didn't have the heart to tell this mixed-race kid that Phil Anselmo is a raging racist. Sigh .... Guess she'll find that out when she's 12, surfing the 'Net.

But anyway, she wants to fire her guitar teacher and find one who will teach her to play like Dimebag Darrell.

Ten. Ten years old. It's adorable, but I'm a little worried that I've ruined her life. It's not easy to be that much too hip for the room. She'll never fit in at the Delta Delta Delta house now ...

(You really should see her listening. She's absolutely transfixed.)