KANSAS CITY, Mo. -- As he sits at a table in a small Italian restaurant, the man known as "The Scary Guy" is the center of attention.

A waitress glances his way, then glances at him again. "Oh, my gosh," she mumbles to herself. A customer walks in and does a double-take, trying to be subtle but staring nonetheless.

The Scary Guy never flinches.

He knows he's an attention-getter, that the piercings and tattoos that cover his face and body are jarring.

That's the whole point.

The Scary Guy -- yes, it's his legal name -- wants to change the world, one stare at a time. He wants to spread his message of love and acceptance, and the rejection of prejudice.

And he wants to use his looks to do it.

"Could a guy in a suit and tie deliver this message?" he asks.

Not like this.

The Scary Guy, who was born in Minnesota as Earl Kaufmann and now lives in Parkville, Mo., has become an international attraction. Last year alone, he spoke to schoolchildren in such places as Scotland, Germany and Ireland and has been described as "frightening" by the Evening Gazette of Middlesbrough, England.

He has a Scary Wear line of clothing, a Wikipedia entry, even an appearance on "The Maury Povich Show."

And all because of those looks, because of the piercings that slice through the bridge of his nose. Because of the tattoos that cover his face, his forehead, his scalp.

"Kids are afraid of me," he said. "They judge me. They don't want to talk to me. Some of them think I'm a wrestler, a biker, a drug dealer. Some think I'm all of those things. They think I've done time.

"It's all good," said Guy, whose criminal background includes nothing more than a speeding ticket. "I understand where they're coming from. ... They're going to judge me whether I want them to or not. It's learned behavior. We're all doing it. And we're passing it on."

Not if he can help it.

Guy, 54, wants people to see one another's true colors, to stamp out bullying and violence and hatred.

And he wants to reach out to children, as many of them as possible. He and his staff -- two people in the United States, two in England -- have devised a curriculum they bring to schools throughout the world.

For fees that can reach $5,000 a day, they spend full days and several weeks working with educators and students, asking them to integrate Guy's philosophies into everyday life.

He starts his presentation by walking in and standing there in silence, by letting the children sit in fear of the 6-foot man before them. Then he talks, his deep voice perfectly fitting his image.

Guy says he gets more than 2,000 requests a month.

So startling are his looks that, several years ago, school officials in Highland, Kan., canceled his scheduled appearance after parents saw posters of him.

"There was so much opposition," said Gerre Martin, a counselor for the district. "It was based on his looks, on all the tattoos. I was surprised that so many people would be opposed to somebody who had a message like his.

"But it got nasty."

Guy is used to it.

These days, Guy makes appearances not only at schools but at corporate gigs, police departments, you name it.

One place you won't see him, though, is a tattoo shop. Not anymore.

"I don't have time," he said. "It's more important for me to use tattoos than to get them."