''I've gotten used to it,'' Mr. Giuliani said in an interview yesterday. ''At first you get very offended by it, but after a while I learned that it's part of the political debate these days. The way they marginalize you is by the grossest and most absurd analogies that people can come up with.''

Deputy Mayor Randy M. Mastro goes so far as to detect a touch of flattery in the Giuliani-as-dictator analogies. ''A lot of the same kind of stereotyping was done by the press and political opponents when Fiorello La Guardia was Mayor,'' he said, referring to one of La Guardia's nicknames as the ''midget Mussolini.'' ''And he was one of the greatest Mayors in history.''

His brief political career suggests that Mr. Giuliani has become less concerned with loathsome analogies as he has grown more comfortable with his message -- he has called it a progressive form of Republicanism -- that combines putting welfare recipients to work with championing gay rights. And it is also possible that he has gradually learned to try to contain the insults by responding coolly.

But he wasn't always so tolerant, or so naive as to ignore the political value of expressing outrage, especially during campaigns. Few in New York politics have forgotten the painful lesson learned by Robert Abrams, then the Attorney General, after he called Senator Alfonse M. D'Amato a fascist toward the end of the 1992 senatorial campaign. Mr. D'Amato framed the comment as an inexcusable anti-Italian slur, and went on to win re-election.

A few weeks before he was elected in 1993, Mr. Giuliani lashed out at supporters of his opponent, Mayor David N. Dinkins, for saying that his camp contained fascist elements. ''They then went on to elaborate that I was surrounded with people like Hitler, Mussolini and Franco,'' he said at the time. ''I don't regard associations of my people that support me as fascists as a light matter.''