BREAKING: Kyle Kazan Replaces Undocumented Workers with Oompa Loompas, Declares Himself "Mr. Wonka" of Weed

By Boof du Jour’s Department of Dystopian Satire and HR Violations

It started with an ICE raid. It ended with a CEO in a velvet coat commanding a chorus line of orange-faced trimmers.

After Glass House Farms got caught playing immigration roulette with its labor force — busted in an undercover ICE sting that sent headlines and high-CBD tears rippling through the California cannabis scene — CEO and former narc Kyle Kazan has reportedly pivoted in the most Glass House way possible:

He’s replaced the undocumented workforce with full-time Oompa Loompas.

We are not speaking in metaphor. We are not being subtle. Kyle Kazan is reportedly making people wear green wigs, orange face paint, and speak in rhyme — all while harvesting mids under a compliance sign that reads, “Welcome to the Pure Imagination Zone™.”

“It’s vertically integrated whimsy,” Kazan allegedly said during a Glass House board call. “We’ve eliminated risk. And dreams. And also HR.”

🍭 From Drug War Cop to Discount Willy Wonka

Before he was the self-declared Mr. Wonka of Weed, Kyle Kazan was an anti-drug task force cop — a guy who probably kicked in your cousin’s door for half a gram of schwag in 1998.

Now, he roams Santa Barbara’s greenhouses dressed like a Spirit Halloween clearance rack, quoting libertarian TED Talks between investor calls and allegedly ordering employees to “juice the vapes and juice the margins.”

Multiple sources inside Glass House say the company has abandoned all pretense of compliance optics in favor of literal performance art. One floor manager told Boof anonymously:

“He makes us sing a compliance-themed version of ‘I’ve Got a Golden Ticket’ before shift changes. He thinks it raises morale.”

It doesn’t.

🧪 Inside the Factory: A Fever Dream of Forced Whimsy

Leaked photos from inside Glass House’s Lompoc facility reveal a workplace somewhere between a cannabis processing plant and a dystopian Disneyland:

• Trim rooms labeled “The Inventing Room” and “The Terp Temple.”

• A former LAPD K-9 handler guarding the break room with a clipboard and a baseball bat wrapped in packaging stickers.

• Budtenders forced to speak in limericks during performance reviews.

• New hires given stickers as bonuses.
  

“If you’re undocumented, you’re out of luck.We’ve got short kings nowwho work for stickers and fudge.”— Actual haiku taped above the employee microwave.

The "Oompa Loompas" — rumored to be paid in $25 DoorDash gift cards and leftover promo hoodies from Hall of Flowers — are allegedly required to clock in using a Wonka-branded punch card. One trimmer claimed Kazan made them spin in a circle and chant “brand compliance” before entering the dry room.

“I asked for a raise,” said one anonymous trimmer. “They offered me a Gobstopper and a LinkedIn endorsement.”

📉 Optics? Burned. Compliance? Vaporized.

The fallout from the ICE raid should’ve triggered accountability, restructuring, or at least a soul-searching PR statement. Instead, it triggered cosplay capitalism.

Kazan reportedly told one employee, “You can’t arrest a fantasy,” after being questioned about wage theft allegations. When asked how Glass House justifies paying below-market rates while publicly posting record revenue, a spokesperson emailed back a single phrase: “Oompa Loompas don’t unionize.”

The company's internal “Ethical Branding Initiative,” according to one former marketing employee, is now just a mood board of Johnny Depp headshots, MAC Cosmetics receipts, and a list of replacement terms for “illegal labor.”

Suggested replacement for “undocumented worker”:“Unlicensed Dream Participant.”

💀 Final Scene: A Chocolate-Coated Corporate Meltdown

Glass House isn’t just spiraling — it’s reinventing the spiral. Under Kyle Kazan’s leadership, the company has chosen performance over policy, fantasy over fairness, and syrupy delusion over sustainable ops.

He’s no longer running a cannabis brand. He’s running a cult cosplay plantation with press access.

“I got fired for missing a rhyme,” said one ex-packager. “Some dude named ‘Lil Terpy’ took my spot. He lives behind the curing room and talks in third person.”

Kyle Kazan now stands as the poster child for California's corporatized weed dream gone rancid: a former drug war enforcer, now presiding over a compliance-themed amusement park built on underpaid labor, synthetic PR, and mids.

Because when you're failing upward in corporate cannabis, all it takes is a velvet coat, a bullshit origin story, and a workforce too scared — or too fictional — to fight back.