After 9/11, I reread Nevil Shute’s “On the Beach.” Now, with Apocalypse Oil spewing in the Gulf, I’m thinking about picking up “The Road” again — while listening to Carole King’s “It’s Too Late. . .” Because the one thing that comes across clearest in McCarthy’s novel is the futility of stocking up for end times. Which it makes it so ironic that civilization has never been better-equipped for bunker dining into perpetuity. Twinkies are forever.