You can change the container, shape it, mutilate it, paint it, scar it, squish it, screw it, stretch it, tail fins and a Continental kit on the back. Oops, drifting a bit ... hang on ... OK got it.
You cannot and will not change the contents. Not even with Pavlov's methods.
To successfully re-program a human the level of control will leave nothing but an automaton.
So, no change but eradication. Hmm, empty inside. Might as well get a taxidermist to finish the job, set Billy or Susie or it in a corner. Well-behaved, low maintenance, obedient.

Ahem, this from Uncle Bill:

"A basic impasse of all control machines is this: Control needs time in which to exercise control because control also needs opposition or acquiescence; otherwise, it ceases to be control. I control a hypnotized subject (at least partially); I control a slave, a dog, a worker; but if I establish complete control somehow, as by implanting electrodes in the brain, then my subject is little more than a tape recorder, a camera, a robot. You don't control a tape recorder - you use it." Burroughs

"Genetic blends, with uncertain ends, on a fortune hunt that's far too fleet."
--np, 1980

Art imitates life: http://youtu.be/e9r2o5ZnSHo

I see the cuckoo's nest, but I don't see anything flying over it.

First of all, that picture...Believe me, that image will engender days of nightmares in any man who was raised without a father. Even 70 years later.

So, no change but eradication.
Sadly true, but don't kill the kid. Eradicate its "mothers," and then go search out more of their coreligionists. The War On Women can't start soon enough, and the proper first step is to realize that the baby dykes are un-salvageable. Once a little chickie starts spouting Marxism at puberty she's lost, and sympathy will only make it worse.

Banish 'em all to the Island of Catfight and let 'em kill each other off.

He'll get the gelding and the training bra. Give it several years for genetics to catch up. The transmogrification is akin to Lysenko's mice.
He's still XY coded.

The boy looks deeply sad, while the bull dyke in the tie looks smug. Millstones for these ladies, please.

When my ex-wife was in college, she came home with a book by a feminist name Mary Daly. Even at time, I was shocked at the vitriol and extremism in it. I now strenuously avoid "progressives" but every now and then I see or hear something that reminds me of that sad, twisted person. The above does just that.

Banish 'em all to the Island of Catfight and let 'em kill each other off.

Nah, just ship 'em to Ferguson on a one-way ticket.

Where's Saddam's sons when you need them? Somebody needs to feed those bull daggers into a meat grinder for ruining that kid's life, along with the liberal swine that advocate for gay adoption.

You never see any (reasonably) good looking lesbians. They are all ugmos, pooches.

They all vibe: loser.

In a society such as ours where we do not have a deep and wide shared standard of ethical and moral behavior, I do not know how these tragedies can be prevented. Perhaps in time after a certain amount of carnage, a new common understanding will arise that some things just ought not to be done by anyone.

Every once in a while, you read a story about a horribly abused child who is 12 years old and 40 pounds, or a child who has been locked in a closet for years. And you imagine what that child suffered. And your heart breaks.

And you imagine the unfathomable cruelty required to do something like that, deliberately, with malice aforethought. Not for a day, but for YEARS. And your heart explodes in fire.

This is all of that, in one picture.

In a civilized society, people who do things like that to a helpless child are hanged. Or burned.

May we live to see civilization again.

Fine. They ought not to do those things, and if they do they ought to be punished. But not in this case you see, for all women everywhere bear the title of Saint.