The method

1. Pick donor words. Two or more real words, ideally tied to what's going on that day (a game feature, a topic, a pop-culture reference). Draw widely: English, Latin and Romance roots, German compounds, Slavic flavor with diacritics (č, ř, ž, ł), Japanese fragments, onomatopoeia, food, machines, animals.
2. Dissect. Split each donor word into syllables.
3. Transplant. Shuffle and swap the syllables between the donors: Nashorn + Nocturne → "Nocnashhorn-turn", "Nocturnashern".
4. Graft. Optionally add a prefix or suffix (a "suffix graft"): -ing, -ation, -ster, -wump, -ix, -erino, -zle, Greek philo-.
5. Check the pulse. It should be pronounceable and fun to say, and ideally the donors are still faintly recognizable, so there's something to guess.

Examples

Rules of thumb

• Don't reuse a stem within a day, and avoid overused endings like "-oodle" and "wobble".
• Words tied to the day's topic land best.
• John's own syllable shuffle is the core technique; he gave the method its name later the same day.

Now an app, with stories

The method grew into an app, Word Salad Surgery, now on the App Store for iPhone, with the Mac version coming soon. Every so often it stitches a new word together from donated parts, and Apple Intelligence, working on your own device, writes it up as a dictionary entry. Tap Tell a Story, and it writes a short story that puts the word to work. One morning's word, with its story:

🥄 Gravywingle (v.): to slurp an overlooked puddle with a bent spoon, leaving only ripples in the grass

The train sat still, its wheels dreaming on the gravel. A bent spoon, found near a torn flyer, caught the morning light. A child leaned down, then Gravywingled the puddle—slurping the overlooked drop with a twist. The grass trembled, leaving only ripples. A pigeon blinked, unimpressed. The spoon rolled, bumped a pebble, then stopped. The sky turned pale yellow. No one moved.

Every word and every story is new, so no two are ever the same. The pigeon was not available for comment.